BITE
by Lion in the Land
Summary: This is the story of Elie, an acidic vamp from Romania. Get to know the Cullens from a different, more cynical, perspective and take off on a new adventure with new characters to fall in love with and a few others to hate.
1. The Ramones

The Cullen's Don't Like Me Much

B.I.T.E

DISCLAIMER: The Cullens are borrowed from the Twilight series of books by Stephenie Meyer. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 1

The Ramones

I pull up to a large, old house at the end of a long, gravel drive through the forest. I open the car door and crunch a stilettoed heel onto the driveway. The five-inch heels are hardly necessary for my slender six-foot frame, but they make me look more imposing, and imposing how I like it. My heavy coal eyeliner and severely sculpted, ebony hair, harshly streaked with platinum, don't hurt either. I've considered a facial piercing, but it's a little too human Goth for my tastes.

The minivan I'm driving could unravel my carefully cultivated, bad-ass image, so I park far from the house where the Cullens won't see it. I was told by the pimply-faced youngster at the counter of the rental agency that this was the last car left on the lot. All my considerable powers of persuasion failed to produce another vehicle, so I had no choice but to believe him. At least it's a rich, bloody red.

I saunter toward the house in my tight, classic black dress. Every step I take clicks and crumbles. I'm not expecting a warm reception. Then again, when is anything ever warm when it comes to vampires?

I'm visiting the Cullens, a family of vampires. There are seven of them right now, but from what I hear, they will soon number eight. Not one of them is an actual blood-relation, so to speak. They've all adopted the Cullen surname as a show of unity. In that way they're sort of like the Ramones but not nearly as cool.

The Cullens are unusual vampires for two reasons. For one, the size of their group, or coven, is atypically large. We usually work alone or cluster together in twos or threes at the most. For two, all of the Cullens abstain from drinking human blood, the thing we vampires crave most of all. They control their desires by feeding instead on animals. Some of these animals are quite large, but from what I've learned, the vegan vampires' appetite is never quite satiated, making any contact with humans a constant challenge. That's why the Cullens have banded together so tightly; they gain strength from each other.

That's not how I roll.

Thank God.

I've always said American vampires are soft. I am blessed to have originated in Romania, land of Vlad the Impaler, the original Dracula. When you come from the land of Vlad the Impaler, you pull rank in the vampiring world. Of course Vladdy was just your run-of-the-mill psychotic, sadistic, power-mad, mortal ruler. Turns out he never was a vampire at all. But his legend is so strong and lasting among humans from generation to generation that he's something of an icon, even among real vampires.

I reach the large, oak front door and knock. As expected, Carlisle, the Cullens' father figure, answers. He gives me a friendly, yet reserved smile.

"So good to see you, Elie," he says.

"Hi, Carlisle," I say with a rare, genuine smile.

We clasp hands and he pulls me into a sort of half hug. Carlisle and I go way, way back. We're on fairly good terms, but he's wary of my interactions with his family. He should be.

I see his wife Esme peering at us cautiously from the background. Esme doesn't like me much. It's ridiculous. That whole thing with me and Carlisle happened, like, two hundred years ago. Ancient history, as the humans say. He still looks pretty good, though.

I slide my hand slowly from Carlisle's shoulder blade down to his waist, too slowly to be considered polite. Esme's glare turns poisonous, but her false, June Cleaver smile stays plastered on. Such a silly woman. Anyone can see that Carlisle is devoted to her. He won't give another vamp as much as a suggestive sideways glance. And you know us vampires, once we've committed to something, we're stuck. For life. Or whatever this is.

Emmett bounds into the house from the garage and stops dead in his burly tracks.

"I thought I smelled…er…hi…uh…how've you been?" he stammers, beaming a handsome, goofy grin on me and trying unsuccessfully to look casual.

Rosalie, Emmett's wife, comes in behind him and accidentally slams into his broad back after his abrupt halt. She doesn't like me much either. It's totally unfair, because nothing's ever even happened between me and Emmett. Not even close. I can't help it if the child gets tongue-tied around me.

"I've been fabulous, Emmett, thanks for asking. You're looking very buff," I say with an admiring glance. He responds with a stupid, guttural laugh.

"Rosalie," I add with a sneer. She doesn't even make an attempt at a greeting but only glares at me through the slits she's made of her eyelids.

Behind them comes Edward in all his panther-like nonchalance. I don't care much for Edward. He's a pompous, little prick. Acts like he's better than us 'normal' vampires and refuses to give up his stiff, formal Victorian language patterns from when he was a human. It's not like any of us even remember our mortal lives very clearly. Carlisle is twenty times the vampire Edward ever will be, but you don't see _him_ casting cold, judgmental glances on the rest of us.

And what's with the Ed_ward_? God forbid he shorten it to Ed. I'm from the seventeenth century for cripes sake and I go by Elie. I'm a sponge for modern culture. I always have been. I soak up the language and style of the day and spit it out gladly.

"Hi Eddie!" I chirp. _You arrogant little prick, _I add silently. I know he hears that last part, because Edward has a gift for reading minds. Unique sixth senses sometimes develop among vampires.

"Greetings, Elisabeta," Edward says formally with a forced smile.

"I hear you had an interesting visit to Italy," I say.

Edward looks at me quickly. He seems surprised that I know.

"When you live in the heart of our world, Ed, you hear things."

He stares at me and dares me to continue.

I chuckle and say, "You do have a flare for the dramatic, don't you." _You melodramatic little prick_, I add in my mind.

"What are you inferring?" he asks sharply.

"I'm _inferring_ that if I had a sister who saw into the future, and I wanted to do myself some harm, I'd probably get on with it as soon as possible and not wait just long enough for her to arrive and save me," I tell him.

Edward glares at me and his lip curls.

Ooh, I'm so scared.

Hardly.

Just then Edward's sister Alice, the one whose sixth sense is seeing into the future, skips down the stairs, screeching, "Elie!"

I adore Alice, and by all appearances, Alice adores me. The little sprite jumps up on me with her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. She's the only one in all this world that could get away with such a move. I grasp her around the waist and spin delightedly once around before setting her down and beaming at her.

"You look amazing!" Alice says.

"What did you expect?" I ask rhetorically as I regain my composure in front of the rest of the family.

Jasper, Alice's mate, saunters down the stairs behind her.

"Elie," he says with cool, casual nod.

"Jasper," I nod in return.

Jasper is the one I'm here to see. I'm working for the Blood-drinkers Institute of Transylvanian Existence (B.I.T.E.) to collect information for their archives. The Institute recently commissioned the development of a Vampirean Archive to house everything we know about vampires. Several new research projects are being conducted to populate the archive, and I am writing an encyclopedia on Vampire Diet, Eating Habits, and Rituals. As you can imagine, the Cullens make an interesting study. Today is Jasper's turn to be interviewed, but before I get down to business, I think I have time to throw out a few more zingers.

"So, Ed, I hear you've got a big day coming up," I say. I'm referring to his upcoming nuptials -- to a human. The conceited little prick thinks he's so much above every other vampire in the history of the world that he can handle a real relationship with a human. Of course, the plan is to turn her into a vampire, but still. I've heard all this through the grapevine, since no formal invitation to the wedding seems to have found its way to my door.

Edward's only response is an icy stare.

"You know, some consider it rude to play with your food before eating it, but I say, good for you," I tell him with both my long, crimson-tipped thumbs pointed up.

No one in the room knows what it costs me to make light of befriending humans before murdering them. Not even the mind reading prick.

I don't have any sixth sense, per se, but I do have an overdeveloped ability to compartmentalize my mind, keeping certain parts of my history tucked away so that others won't see it and I won't feel it. I think of my brain as having a brick and mortar wall down the center. In front of the wall is what you see – a smart alec, sometimes vicious, tough girl; behind it is where I store a tumult of pain and misery and something very tender and beautiful that is nobody else's business.

_Behind the wall I still hear his anguished cries, his cold fury, and the rasp of his final, beautiful breath._


	2. Behind the Wall

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Behind the Wall

I have a dual purpose for my research with the Cullens. I truly am collecting information for B.I.T.E., but I also have another, more personal reason to focus on this family. A reason related to my own eating habits. I'm stowing this secondary purpose behind the wall for now. Before I tell you all about it, you'll need a little background.

What the Cullens don't know - what nobody knows - is that I haven't tasted human blood in fifty years. When you come from the land of Vlad the Impaler, that's not exactly something you advertise. So I've been faking it for fifty years.

I'd laid off humans for a very brief time earlier in my existence, during those few months when I was with Carlisle. I was a completely different vampire back then, but I've always been strong-willed, so abstaining was just a matter of setting my mind to it. It was easy enough for me to do, but I was still too young in my existence to care much about the morality of it. The veggie lifestyle was simply a novelty for me, a phase I'd out grow. When Carlisle and I went our separate ways, I went back to feeding on humans without any qualms. Still, I'd proven I could do it, no problem. I knew that if I ever wanted to quit humans again, I could. So when I met Kristoph and fell madly in love with him, I figured I could handle it.

I figured wrong.

I figured _very_ wrong.

I came across Kristoph by chance in a crowded, western European market. He was the most remarkable human I'd ever met. I understood this after one brief conversation with him in front of a flower stand. That initial flirtation ended with him handing me a huge bouquet of daffodils under his sparkling grin. I was hooked. I couldn't stay away from him. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't stay away from me either.

The party never seemed to end with my adventurous Kristoph. We traveled and laughed and became addicted to one another. I trusted Kristoph with the secret of my existence, and somehow he accepted it. We were going to make it work, because I loved him, and miracle of miracles, he loved me. He loved me, loved me, loved me. Exactly as I was. He let me be bad, but he made me want to be better. And I _was_ better with Kristoph. I was perfect with Kristoph.

Until…

I still don't know how it happened. Even now I can't remember what set me off. I'd been leaning against his chest, contented while he kissed the top of my head. We were making plans for a holiday somewhere secluded and warm and tropical. Then suddenly, for no reason at all, I was draining him of life. I still hear the anguished cries he made as I sank my teeth deep into his neck.

He made a solid attempt to throw me off, but I unleashed my full strength and pinned him helplessly to the ground. We locked eyes for a moment as we fell, and I read his cold fury. That fury fed my predatorial instinct, and I latched onto him again.

Midway through I thought I could stop. I thought maybe I could contain the damage and leave him converted to a vampire. That wouldn't be so bad would it? Since it was an accident? But I couldn't stop. I kept drinking and drinking his exquisite blood, made all the more irresistible because of the love I felt for the man it sustained. Kristoph's blood ran down my face like thick, crimson tears, but I couldn't stop.

With my thirst finally satiated, the full horror of what I'd done slammed down on me. I gathered my wonderful, hilarious, intelligent Kristoph in my arms and watched him struggle with his last gasp of breath. I stared silently at his motionless and drained corpse for hours and hours. I was glad I couldn't cry, because I didn't deserve to have the hideous sight of Kristoph's emaciated body blurred. I kept my hysterical screams locked inside my head, because I didn't deserve to release them.

I still don't know how it happened.

Every day I hear his anguished cries, see his cold fury, and listen to the rasp of his final, beautiful breath.

In the hours, maybe days, that I spent cradling him, I realized that I didn't want to exist any more in any dimension. I didn't deserve to exist. Annihilation. Utter and complete obliteration. That's what I was after.

I carried Kristoph's body to the forest and buried him. I wanted him to have a proper burial, but I couldn't bear the thought of humans poking around his precious limbs as they tried to figure out what kind of animal could have done this to him. Then I journeyed to the deserted marketplace, the very some one where Kristoph and I had met. I waited patiently through the night, stained and cracking with his dried blood. I hadn't bothered to clean myself up, because I didn't deserve to be clean. While I waited, I tried to feel his hemoglobin coursing through me. It was the last time I would ever feel my beautiful Kristoph.

I was going to attract the Volturi to end my existence. The Volturi are a huge network of vampires in Italy. They've appointed themselves as the watchdogs of the vampiring world and police our activity to make sure our species is not exposed to the rest of the world. Anyone caught endangering our secrecy is summarily executed. At least the lucky ones are. The not-so-lucky ones are unmercifully tortured first. I was hoping for torture. It's what I deserved.

The Volturi is the group Edward pretended to try to offend during his little tantrum in Italy earlier this year. I think his plan was to expose his skin in sunlight and freak out humans with his shimmery, vampire skin. I guess pretty boy was trying to sparkle himself to death. Emasculated little prick. My plan had a bit more teeth to it.

I was going to wait in the marketplace until the humans started coming out in the morning. Then I would attack anyone and everyone that I could get to. I would rip out their throats and turn the market into a river of blood. I would spare just enough to leave as witnesses. The Volturi couldn't ignore that.

The sun showed its first glow over the city buildings, and humans began to appear, dragging their wares to the scattered booths. A few cast suspicious glances at me. I can't imagine what they made of my blackened blood stains, my matted hair, and my wild, grief-stricken eyes. The first wary human got too close. I pulled my lips back into a fierce snarl and crouched, ready to pounce. I caught a flash of fear in his eyes, and Kristoph's screams exploded in my head. I couldn't move. I could only stand and listen. Listen to my love die again and again. I was paralyzed and stayed frozen in my crouched position, staring like a lunatic at the crowd that was beginning to form around me.

Eventually, the city authorities came to shoo me away. I turned to them and managed to let out a pathetic squeak. As they made to grab me, I turned and ran and ran and ran. I kept running, and nobody stopped me; apparently the Volturi aren't real sticklers when it comes to squeaking in public.

I eventually stopped running and simply walked. Walked without knowing where I was going. While I walked, I made a new plan. Feeding was going to be a problem, since I was no longer capable of killing anything, so plan B was very simple – I wouldn't eat. Period. A slow, excruciating death by starvation. That's what I deserved.

Turns out vampires can't die from starvation. They just get weaker and weaker and weaker until they are nothing but a useless pile of rubbish, capable of nothing other than reliving in their minds the horror of whatever sent them to starvation in the first place. I didn't figure this out until I was lying in a crisp, autumn field somewhere. I lay on my back with my legs splayed out at odd angles. I don't even know what my arms were doing. My mouth was slack and my eyelids stayed plastered open, because closing them would have required too much energy.

I prayed for insanity to set in, but it never came. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't, so I listened to Kristoph's screams instead. All the way into winter. The situation was impossible. I had to get up. I needed nourishment. Somehow, I needed to get blood. Field mice often rustled the dried, frozen grasses near me, but all I could do was watch their delectable corpuscles inevitably skitter away. One day, a mouse bravely crawled onto me. He wasn't big, but maybe this speck of nourishment would allow me enough motion to trap something bigger. He cautiously traversed my throat and sniffed his tiny nose around my face. His whiskers tickled my chin, my cheek, my lips.

'_Oh little mouse,'_ I thought, 'Come_ on in…come on in_.' He ducked his foolish head past my teeth. '_Bite!_' I commanded myself. '_Bite, damnit! Bite!_'

My jaw remained helplessly open, but I did feel a bite – on _my_ tongue. The little vermin bit _me_! The pain was exquisite. Miraculously, wonderfully exquisite. I wanted more, more, more pain. But the vermin didn't like me and scampered away.

I was left in hell. It was exactly what I deserved.

Spring arrived and with it came the footsteps of a sandy-haired, stout little man. Even after all of my horrors, something about this little man sent a new wave of terror trembling through me. He wore the uniform of my ultimate, mortal enemy. He was far more threatening to me than even the Volturi.


	3. 51: 1 13

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

51: 1 - 13

The new, spring grass was bright green and soft. It cushioned his step, so I wasn't aware of him until he was upon my wasted, helpless body. He momentarily paused a few feet away from me before coming closer. He came down to one knee and stared into my frozen face. It was then that I noticed beneath his seemingly innocent, fair, freckled face the straight, black collar with the white square at his throat.

Terror seized me at once. The only feature that could have betrayed my fear was my eyes, which must have darkened to the darkest ebony by then. No other muscle on my body had the power to flinch in the slightest. He reached out to my throat, as if to check for a pulse. His hand recoiled at its first contact with my icy, stone flesh, and I watched a flicker of fear race across _his_ face.

My sentiments quickly changed from terror to gratitude as we locked eyes in the beginning of a battle that was centuries older than either of us. I understood what he was going to do for me. He would lay his crucifix upon me, sprinkle me with his holy waters, chant over me, drench me in incense, burn me, stab me, torture me. At last I was going to get what I deserved. This man's purpose was to rid the world of evil like me. He would do it, and I would welcome it.

After long moments of silence, he uttered something I couldn't understand. The momentary fear in his eyes had been replaced with something like determination. He slid surprisingly gentle arms under me and easily lifted my decrepit body. I had lost a considerable amount of weight and was barely more than bones and frigid flesh. He was much younger then and stronger than his stout frame would indicate. He carried me across the field, with my arms and legs dangling and my head lolling back on my neck. There was nothing I could do but go with him. There was nothing else I wanted to do.

Through upside down, bouncing eyes I watched the field become a small hill and the hill a gravel path. In the distance, I could make out a small, stone church with a much smaller, square building behind it. This was where we were headed. He was taking me to his altar, which was surely laden with all his mighty instruments to destroy me. I wept invisible tears for the fitting end that was so close to me.

I was wrong. We didn't go into the church. We walked past the simple structure to the small, square building, where he laid me gently onto a small, sparse cot in the corner. He looked down at me with a soft expression. I thought I saw a gleam in his eye and realized with revulsion that he was going to enjoy this. He held his hand above me and moved it slowly in the sign of the cross while he mumbled an incantation that I didn't understand. I waited for the searing pain, but it didn't come.

He left me briefly and returned with a glass full of a clear liquid. He poured it down my throat. It was cool and tasteless. It didn't scald. It didn't do anything. The little man stood and watched me with furrowed brows. He scurried away again and came back with a thicker liquid, maybe milk. He poured. This drink oozed slowly down my throat with a dull, bitter taste. Nothing happened. The little man sighed. He seemed disappointed at my lack of response. He wasn't very good at this vanquishing of evil business, was he?

I stared again into his eyes. They were not the type of eyes that I had thought I'd seen in the field. They did not seem at all like the type of eyes to do me in. They were soft, kind, fretful eyes. They were eyes that earnestly wanted to help me. He wanted to help me.

When he disappeared and returned again, it was with a steamy bowl. Some kind of soup or gruel. This time I didn't brace myself for impending doom. This time I knew that it would only be an ineffective attempt to save me. Sure enough, the thick, warm liquid dripped down my throat and tasted mildly of dirt. But it also tasted of something else. Something stronger. It tasted of compassion and kindness and goodness. It tasted of someone who cared, someone who thought I deserved more than a wasted, tortured existence. It had been a very long time since I'd tasted anything like it.

Kristoph, beautiful Kristoph, had been the last to have given it to me. I suppose Carlisle had shown it to me back in the day. Before that……before that……my mother. My human mother. It had been decades since I'd let myself think of her. I didn't precisely remember her, of course. But I remembered her soft coos and her warm embrace, and I was sure she must have fed my like this when I was a baby.

His steady, rhythmic lifting and tilting of the spoon made me feel cared for, and for the first time in many, many months, I was filled with something other than despair. I was filled with longing. Longing for compassion and caring and kindness. And this little man was giving it to me, spoonful by spoonful. And I was gulping it up, or rather, thankfully letting it slide down my incapacitate throat. Other than that, the concoction did me no good.

He gave up on the useless gruel and set it aside on a table. He sat on his little stool and leaned forward on his elbows. He stared long and hard at me, into my eyes. I stared back. Both sets of eyes filled with desperation - mine desperate _for_ help, his desperate _to_ help.

He touched his fingers again to my throat and clucked. He withdrew his hand quickly while his eyes flicked back and forth in deep thought. He wiped his freckled brow several times before laying a straw mat on the floor and lying down to rest for a few hours. At the first ray of morning, he went out for a longer time than he'd left me before and returned with an armful of groceries. He busied himself at the stove and came to me with another steaming bowl. This new soup had a read tinge. It slid down my throat, warm and thin and – delicious. I actually tasted flavor along with his kindness.

The effect of this red soup was immediate. The muscles of my throat constricted around it, and my mouth opened weakly for more. He quickly spooned it to me. More, more, more. He ran to the stove and refilled the bowl. More, more, more. Halfway through the third bowl, I started to gag. My body had had no real nourishment for several months and could only handle so much at once. But the difference was astounding. Even the gagging felt wonderful.

The two of us celebrated. Oh how we celebrated - me with half a lip raised in a crooked smile, more movement than I'd accomplished in months, and him with a funny little jig and clapping of his hands. When he sat down by me again it was with wet, happy tears shining in his eyes. He rubbed a gentle thumb across my forehead and looked down at me with great hope.

The red soup kept coming, and day after day, I gained in strength. This little man only spoke Polish, one of the few languages I didn't understand, and I still wasn't able to speak at all, but through a kind of pantomime, here is what I learned from him: His name was Father Pawel. We were in Poland, where he is pastor of a small parish in a tiny village. The soup that was nourishing me was one of his mother's old recipes for blood soup. Delicious, fortifying, life-giving, blood soup. Even though I would eventually gag and cough up the bulk of the soup, my body was able to retain enough of the duck blood to set me on a path to recovery.

During the following weeks, my strength slowly, slowly came back to me. I couldn't do much for the first fortnight, other than lay and listen and sometimes sit up a bit. But I was able to communicate through facial expression, and occasionally I was able to grasp Father Pawel's hand with a gentle squeeze of appreciation. During this time, Father Pawel went about his parish business, often leaving me for hours at a time. But he always came back to feed me, and at night, he would read to me from his book, the Bible. It was in Latin, a language I was familiar with at a rudimentary level, so I was able to make some sense out of it when he read slowly.

The Old Testament stories were fascinating, but it was a reading in David's psalms that help me captive. The first time Father Pawel read it to me, I gasped and indicated for him to read it again. He did, more slowly and I gasped again. From then on, he made sure to read that passage to me every night. Since that time, I've found a proper English translation of those verses – here it is:

_O loving and kind God, have mercy. Have pity upon me and take away the awful stain of my transgression. Oh, wash me, cleanse me from this guilt. Let me be pure again. For I admit my shameful deed – it haunts me day and night. It is against you and you alone I sinned, and did this terrible thing. You saw it all, and your sentence against me is just. But I was born a sinner, yes, from the moment my mother conceived me. You deserve honesty from the heart; yes, utter sincerity and truthfulness. Oh, give me this wisdom. _

_Sprinkle me with the cleansing blood and I shall be clean again. Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow. And after you have punished me, give me back my joy again. Don't keep looking at my sins – erase them from your sight. Create in me a new, clean heart, O God, filled with clean thoughts and right desires. Don't toss me aside, banished forever from your presence. Don't take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me again the joy of your salvation, and make me willing to obey you. Then I will teach your way to other sinners, and they – guilty like me – will repent and return to you._

_Psalm 51: 1 - 13_

The psalm gave me hope. Could I really one day be free from what I'd done? Forgiven. New life. I wanted that. I wanted a new life. I wanted to live again. Every night, Father Pawel read to me from his book, and when I had strength enough on my own, I sat up and read to myself for long, silent hours. I read many stories of divine forgiveness in that book, and my hope grew into belief.

I continued growing stronger, and soon I realized that the blood soup and black puddings made from pigs blood were no longer enough.1 I was craving more. So one night, while Father Pawel slept, I left. I stepped over his snoring form on the straw mat, noiselessly opened and shut his door, and set off over the dark, lonely hills. I went as far away from him as possible in my still weakened condition. I was afraid my cravings would lead me to his throat, and I couldn't take that chance. Not now that I was growing to love him as I had once loved my mother.

As I traveled the distance, I thought about my psalm. "_Take away the awful stain of my transgression… I shall be clean again… create in me a new, clean heart." _It was beautiful. Poetry to my needy spirit. I had my hope and my belief and yet, I also had a lingering doubt. Did this forgiveness apply to vampires? Or did we give up that privilege when we gave up our mortality? I wondered and prayed and searched for peace. I came to understand that I would not find true peace until I was able to forgive myself. I was working on that. Still working on that.

Infrequently, I thought about the last line, "_Then I will teach your way to other sinners, and they – guilty like me – will repent and return to you. _Father Pawel always insisted on reading that line. I didn't know why. I never asked him to, and I never read that far when I was reading on my own.

I'd traveled a fair distance and still hadn't eaten. I'd regained enough strength to be able to hunt again, and I figured I'd better get to it before I started to weaken again. I stayed in remote places where I wouldn't be likely to run into a human. The image of Kristoph's suffering was still far too fresh in my mind. What struck me as unusual as I walked along was that, although my body craved pure, undiluted blood, I no longer had an _urge_ to kill. I felt nothing of my old anticipation - the joy of the hunt, the excitement of the attack, the quivering bliss of ripping flesh. I simply needed to eat, and killing was a mechanical means to that ends.

As I walked along, I realized that I was going to return to Father Pawel once I'd satisfied my cravings, once I became less dangerous to him. I missed him. I missed our time together. He fed my spirit, and he fed my loneliness, and he fed my need to care about someone and have someone care about me. I was surprised by how terribly I missed him. I hadn't expected that.

I smiled and laughed at myself. Go figure - my BFF was a frickin' Roman Catholic priest. A vampire in communion with the most sacramental of Christians. Spawn of satan cavorting with the enemy most powerfully equipped against evil. Irony doesn't get any sweeter.

I lurked in a dense forest and easily caught a small, grey rabbit.

I said, "Sorry, little bunny," and lifted its jugular to my lips.

The rabbit squirmed, and I bit.

The rabbit screeched, and I screamed.

I flung the rabbit to the ground, away from me. The poor bunny seemed stunned for a moment but then hopped off into the trees and appeared to be alright. I fell back against a thick, rough tree trunk, spitting out fur and wondering what in the hell I was supposed to do. I couldn't kill. I couldn't kill! I was not going to be able to feed and rid myself of these cravings. They would grow and grow and grow until…until what I didn't know.

What in the hell was I supposed to do?

1 Vampires consuming foods other than pure blood may not be strictly cannon with the Twilight books. However, since blood is an ingredient in both Blood Soup and Black Pudding, I'm using them in this story with the condition that all other ingredients are eventually coughed up.


	4. Thirteen

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Thirteen

I started to decline again. I wasn't going to make it on my own. I needed help, so I beat a path to Father Pawel. I thought that if I could reach him soon enough, before the cravings became too overwhelming, he could feed me and stave them off. I hoped that would buy me the time I needed to figure out what to do, a way to satisfy my cravings before they overwhelmed me. As I stumbled along, I realized that I also wanted – needed - to hear more about this forgiveness.

I struggled back to the tiny church house in the Polish countryside. Father Pawel took me in again. Without question, he welcomed me into his sparse cottage and I was filled with the sense of returning home. Little ever changed in the simplicity of Father Pawel's home, that's why I immediately noticed the unfamiliar stack of dusty books on his tiny, wooden desk. He quickly swept the books aside and into a bin, but my sharp eyes had already made out a couple of details: capital letters down the binding of one of the books spelled out WAMPIR; another volume appeared to be a Polish translation of a story written by Bram Stoker.

My little friend had been doing some unfortunate research.

I looked carefully back at him, wondering how he'd react to what he'd learned. He wasn't grasping at wooden stakes or anything. That was good. He merely stood sheepishly and motioned for me to sit and rest while he went out for a few moments. I complied, and he went nervously out his door. Was he going out to fetch reinforcements? The suspicion died as soon as I'd thought it. My trust in him was beyond such silliness. I waited patiently, hoping only that he wouldn't be too frightened of me.

I smelled his return before I heard it. He smelled like blood. Pure blood. Thick, rich, delectable, irresistible blood. Blood that sang out beyond muscle and flesh. Blood that I _had_ to have. Blood that _nothing, nothing, nothing_ was going to stop me from having this time. My cravings had reached their breaking point. This was it.

I stood rigidly, staring at the door with every stony muscle tensed. My lips curled back from my teeth as a low snarl rumbled from the base of my throat. My burning, flaming throat. The door swung open, and Father Pawel stood there with a shaking hand extended out in front of him as far as his stubby arm could reach. He held a thick glass filled and dripping with unadulterated blood. In a fraction of a second I leapt to him, whipping the glass out of his hand and to my throat. I gulped down the oozing liquid. It was exquisite.

It wasn't enough.

My coal black eyes burned on Father Pawel, whose entire body was now trembling. It was the terrified look on my kind, gentle Pawel's fair face that caused me to pause. The pause gave him the seconds he needed to shift slightly and reveal a small wagon behind him. The wagon was filled with rich, red jars. I shoved the little priest to the ground, out of my way, and pounced on the wagon, ripping the glass top off one of the jars with my teeth and pouring the contents down my throat, not caring that I was spilling half of it down my chin. I wanted it in me as fast as possible. I went through three jars before my senses came back to me.

Poor Father Pawel was lying on the ground in a heap. I rushed to him and sat him up. He was conscious and a little shaken, but he was going to be fine. Apparently his research hadn't been so unfortunate, after all. He'd found the solution I'd been looking for. My precious, precious friend had been tapping the local farm animals and storing their blood for me! I couldn't believe it.

I knew the blood in the jars was from farm animals because of the grainy bouquet and essences of hay that I'd noted once my consumption had slowed to a civilized pace. Other than that, I had no idea how he had procured my beverages. For once, the language barrier between us proved convenient; it allowed us to avoid embarrassing conversations about _how_ he got the blood and _why_ I drank it. Over time, however, my quick mind picked up his language, and we began to have real conversations. Even then, we avoided any discussion of my meals, although he continued to furnish them regularly.

I knew that he must have a pretty good idea of what I was, even if those books he'd read didn't completely match up with reality. The blood was a fairly damning clue. Father Pawel was also privy to another solid clue that most likely hadn't shown up in any of his books. He witnessed this clue every time we went for our long, solitary walks on his sunny hillsides. In the direct sunlight, my vampiric skin shimmered and sparkled like drops of morning sunlight scattered across a lightly rippling lake. Like the Eiffel Tower at night after the millennium celebration.

Father Pawel adored my sparkly skin. No matter how many times he saw it, he always gave an initial gasp of delight. Then he'd usually chuckle and grab my icy hand to spin me around so he could get a good look at it. I'd have to crouch down to make it under his stocky arm. But he never, ever questioned the temperature or the appearance of my skin. And he never commented on my unusual culinary preferences.

One day I started to talk about it, tried to give him more background about what I was, but he shushed me with an unusual show of severity. That round, jolly face could be quite fierce when it wanted to be, and the words stuck in my throat. Father Pawel made me understand that under no circumstances were we ever to explicitly discuss my heritage, my legacy, my what ever it was. I was surprised by his insistence on this point. After a while, I guessed that he must have taken a vow somewhere along the way that would prevent him from befriending someone like me. Maybe not saying it out loud was some kind of a loophole.

So, we talked about it without talking about it. We avoided certain words, certain details. Even so, he came to understand the agonized guilt and misery that I carried with me, would probably always carry with me. He understood this without the necessity of details.

He also understood that I'd separated myself from the vast majority of my kind (he refers to _my kind_ as if it were nothing more than ethnicity) by abstaining from human blood. Of course, for me this lifestyle was not exactly a choice. It's not as if I avoided killing humans out of a sense of right or wrong. Rather, the decision was forced on me out of sheer terror. Still, Father Pawel helped me see that my abstinence was good, regardless of the motivation. He encouraged me to continue on this path no matter how my appetite might change in the future.

Often times our discussions were accompanied by a picnic of grapes and cheese and wine and blood. When we were satiated, we would often lie back on our blanket or the grass and read to each other. He knew my need to have my psalm repeated. For some reason, he seemed to linger even more intently on verse thirteen.

_Then I will teach your way to other sinners, and they – _

_guilty like me – will repent and return to you._

Why did he do that?

I knew it wasn't a good idea for me to stay continually with Father Pawel. People would begin to wonder about the company he kept. I also felt the pull of my natural need to wander. I was a nomad by nature. That's why I'd left the stifling elements in my homeland of Romania so long ago. I periodically left the Polish countryside for brief stints, but could only get so far before I had to return to Father Pawel for nourishment. The tight radius of my travels left me restless, a fact I couldn't hide from my friend. He tried teaching me his methods for extracting blood from animals, taking only enough so that no real damage had been done, but the beasts still shrieked in pain, and I had a difficult time with it. I was hopelessly tied to Eastern and Western Europe. I longed to roam further, but how could I?

One day, Pawel and I amused ourselves by tossing pebbles into a rushing brook. He was amazed at my precision and the charming designs I created at the surface of the water by skipping several stones at once. A stray, yellow tabby sat a little ways down the brook on the opposite bank. The cat had learned not to be afraid of me after our first encounter when my throat burned for his blood, but I didn't bother doing anything about it. We became playmates of sorts. I called him Gato.

We'd crouch and hiss at each other. He'd inevitably pounce on me with splayed claws, futilely scratching at my stone flesh. I enjoyed watching his frustration mount as he bit and clawed at my arm, always seeming sure that _this_ time he was going to get me. Then I'd get bored and pull my arm back and see how far I could fling him across the field. Sometimes it was so far that he became nothing more than a tiny, howling spec in the distance. Father Pawel would shake his head and cluck his tongue disapprovingly, but I would laugh and laugh at the cat's flailing limbs and yowling protests as he disappeared. Hey - he landed on his feet every time, and he must have enjoyed it, because he always came back for more.

On that day by the brook, funny Gato curiously watched the fish swimming below him. His ears pricked and his furry head snapped back and forth as his bright, keen eyes followed their movement. He curled one of his front paws, his claws fully extended. In a flash, the paw dipped in the water and Gato pulled out a wriggling fish. He clamped his sharp teeth into it and ran away with the spoils of his hunt.

I stood gaping at the scene of the attack. There had been no screams, no cries of pain. Just a very peaceful attack and capture……fish had blood, right?

And so, Gato had taught me how to fish. This new skill literally opened up the world to me. I would be able to travel far distances as long as I was close to water, which carried my new food source. Father Pawel and I hugged tightly before I left on that next journey. I squeezed him until he let out a muffled, 'Umph.' We knew I'd be gone very long this time.

I cut to the Mediterranean and traveled to the Atlantic. I followed Africa's western coast south and swept around the tip to the Indian Ocean. Once there, I swam to Madagascar. As I circled the large island, hunting, I found that I had competition in the water, and I'm not talking about sharks. I'm talking about a small coven of fish-eating, narly-wave-riding, long haired, weed-burning vampires. They were totally radical, dude. And remarkably enlightened.

There were three of them, two males and a female, who had all arrived at the island's south west beach separately, drawn to the seclusion and the stories of incredible surf swells for the patient. They'd given up attacking humans long before I met them because of the 'bad karma,' and lived mostly on fish. They occasionally hunted mammals, but only those that were neither of an endangered species nor endemic to the island.

Although my instinct was to keep moving and get away from these other vampires, they intrigued me with their calming, no-questions-asked aura. Without even seeming to try, they convinced me to stay and hang out for a while. While I was there, the group willingly taught me invaluable skills for hunting in the open sea. Team hunting was most effective, but since I preferred to work alone, they gave me a few hints for solo hunting. Soon I was taking down bigger prey, like tuna and marlin, on my own.

One afternoon as we trolled the deep waters, Pippa, the female, raced over to us in great agitation. She'd spotted a Great White. I turned to head immediately to shore, but saw that Kevin and Plainsong stayed to twirl summersaults in the water. They were excited. They'd never been able to go after such a big target with just the three of them. With four of us, they told me, it just _might_ be possible.

We split up and took various posts in the water around the enormous shark. Kevin, Plainsong and I stayed just out of the shark's vision, but where we could still see each other. Pippa was the distraction. She was close enough for the shark to see but not so close that he'd guess what she was right away. He took the bait and swam cautiously toward her white, thrashing form, probably more out of curiosity than anything. As the majestic beast approached, it caught a whiff of her and reared its giant head in distaste. It turned and swam swiftly away in the opposite direction. Kevin and Plainsong were waiting for it.

The male vampires shot to either side of its enormous head, each blinding an eye and then sinking their teeth into its body, just behind its massive gills. The monster thrashed dangerously, threatening to fling the boys miles away. I swooped down from above to grab onto its dorsal to try and steady its movement, while Pippa struggled to control its powerful tail. The great beast eventually grew tired – something we would never do. It slowed and eventually stopped moving entirely as he succumbed to the fatal loss of blood. The whole thing had been accomplished with surprising fluidity, like a well orchestrated ballet.

We whooped silently under the water and then Pippa and I joined in on the feast. We sunk our teeth into the smooth, milky flesh and sucked. There was no tearing of skin, no sense of frenzy, no taste of violence whatsoever as we fed. The five of us, the four vampires and the deceased shark, floated gracefully through the water as one being. Escaped blood spread out in the water, creating a soft, red cloud around us. After we'd had our fill, the shark's carcass drifted downward into darkness, while the rest of us slowly glided to the surface and flipped onto our backs, letting the gentle ripples of the ocean rock us into a kind of blood coma under the darkening sky.

The Madagascar coven was the happiest, most peaceful, fun-loving group of vampires I'd ever met. They'd surf all night when conditions were right, and when they weren't surfing, they'd light a big bonfire on the beach and burn dried leaves they'd harvested from their own, personal crop hidden on the lush island. The weeds sent a puff of smoke wafting in the air toward us. After inhaling the smoke for a while, we'd fall into a different kind of giggling coma.

It wasn't long before the serenity became too much for me, too uncomfortable, and I unceremoniously got the hell out of there.

Father Pawel was my next destination. I'd been away from him for too long. On my long journey back to Poland, up the east coast of Africa and via the Red Sea this time, I realized that my struggles with the bigger fish in Madagascar had reignited my urge to hunt. I sidetracked into the hills of east Africa and went after an Ibex. He was agile on the rocky terrain, but I was deadly silent as I crept to a ledge above him and leapt with pinpoint accuracy to grasp his great horns, yanking his bearded head back. I sunk my teeth into his throat and drank and drank and drank. The goat's agonized bleating hadn't stopped me. The thrill of the hunt once again coursed through my empty veins. I was cured.

This would have been wonderful news if it hadn't been so horribly tragic - what did this mean for my thirst for human blood? What did this mean for Father Pawel? My trek to Poland slowed and nearly stopped while I struggled with this question. Now that I could hunt again, I was completely autonomous and independent, just the way I liked it. There was no need for me to return to him. Ever. The thought of never seeing him again ripped through me. I might not need him to feed me anymore, but I did need him. I needed his smiling face and his soft admonishments. I needed our walks and our conversations. I needed him to spin me in the sunlight. He'd become everything to me, and I needed him more than I needed anything else in this world. I was going back to him. But first…

I walked into the center of an African village at dusk. The villagers watched me warily, and mothers stood protectively in front of their children, as well they should. I sucked air in through my nose and smelled the tempting, human blood. I listened to the rapidly beating hearts furiously pumping as they dispersed the rich redness. I inhaled the scent again. Then I turned and left the village with a dull throbbing in my throat. My instinct to hunt humans hadn't returned as strongly as the urge to hunt animals. Human cries would be different. Still, walking away that day felt like a choice. A choice backed by the memory of unbearable misery.

When I finally returned to Father Pawel, I explained my new developments as explicitly as I dared. He beamed at me. I told him about Pippa and Kevin and Plainsong, how they were my kind, how they'd freely chosen a violence-free lifestyle. I tried to describe their inner peace. His eyes grew as big as saucers on his elated, round face.

"I knew it could be done," he murmured in Polish, more to himself than to me.

Then his gaze was on my face and he knelt in front of me on our picnic blanket.

"Elisa," he said, holding out the palms of both of his hands up to me. He was practically glowing. Something big was going on inside that little man. I grasped onto his hands and knelt to face him.

"Yes, Father, what is it?" I asked as gently as I could. I didn't want to pop his bubble with any sharpness.

"_Then I will teach your way to other sinners, and they – guilty like me – will repent and return to you_,"he said joyously, looking straight at me.

I examined his eyes. They appeared to be very clear, remarkably clear, so I discarded the idea that he'd somehow gotten a hold of the Madagascar weed. He repeated the statement and continued staring at me with great hope. I could only scrunch my face up at him in confusion.

"It's possible Elisa. It can be done. Some of your kind are already doing it. _You_ can help spread the word – _teach your way to other sinners_."

I looked at him incredulously. During my lengthy absence, my precious Pawel had gone barking mad.

He read my expression and chuckled, releasing my hands and relaxing back down on the blanket. He patted a spot next to him, indicating that I should sit down next to him, and backed up several hundred pages. He explained that while my personal lifestyle was to be commended, perhaps I had a higher purpose. Perhaps the circumstances of my life had been arranged to direct me to this higher purpose. Perhaps I was meant to lead my kind toward a more peaceful, less murderous culture. I was doubtful and resistant. I mean, seriously, could someone who got her kicks by flinging helpless kittens honestly expect to have a higher purpose?

Father Pawel cultivated the seeds he had planted, and over the course of several weeks, I became wholly convinced that I could no longer continue in my selfish existence. It was well and good that I had chosen not to kill, but I could no longer ignore the fact that murder was an accepted way of life for most of my species. Not when I knew that change was possible. The Madigascar vampires had done it. Carlisle had done it. It was possible. Would I finally be able to forgive myself if I could accomplish something so good?

The flame of hope that Father Pawel had ignited in me started to flicker, and soon I burned with a higher purpose. Now I just needed a plan. 

After much thought and internal debate, it became clear to me that step one of the grand plan would require me to return to Romania. Return to B.I.T.E., return to the organization that had nearly smothered me centuries ago. Only two ancient Romanian vampires still remained in this world, and they were mostly harmless, but the New Romanians, the ones created after the fall of the Romanian Empire, were as regimented and unforgiving as any world power I'd ever witnessed. My non-existent heart skipped a beat when I wondered what kind of reception I could expect upon my return. I had no reason to expect it to be warm. Then again, like I've said before, when is anything ever warm when it comes to vampires?


	5. The Land of Vlad the Impaler

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The Land of Vlad the Impaler

I steeled myself for my return to Romania. It wasn't a far journey, but crossing the communist border would be a hassle through traditional human means, so I covered most of the way on foot and noiselessly leapt over the fence in the dead of night. The Border Policeman barely lifted his head as he probably wondered what that flash was all about. I then ran to the base of the Carpathian Mountains and hiked into its majestic beauty. As I reached a summit and looked out over the tops of towering pines at the snowy, blue peaks of neighboring mountains, I wondered briefly why I'd ever left.

The answer to that question came to me in the form of a palpable weight of oppression that pressed more persistently on my chest with every step closer to my destination. I felt the old ruins just beyond that last stand of trees and fought the urge to flee. An urge I hadn't bothered to fight two centuries earlier. I couldn't run away this time. Access to the resources of the Romanian organization was vital to the success of my newly-adopted mission to somehow bring about a large-scale acceptance of more peaceful, less murderous eating habits among vampires.

Stepping through the trees just before daybreak lit the hills, I set my eyes upon the familiar stone outcroppings, precariously balanced on the hilly incline. They'd been balanced there for two millennia. The maze of crumbling half walls and rocky rubble were all that was left of what used to be a grand castle and fortress. I moved cautiously around what had been part of the wall surrounding the fortress and saw them. Vladimir and Stefan. The only two surviving Romanian Ancients. They were perched forlornly on two large pieces of rubble that made sorry substitutes for the golden thrones from which they used to rule.

The poor dears were, and still are, trapped in a time warp. Their ancient minds focus only on the days when Romania ruled the vampiring world. They barely talk of anything other than their never-ending vendetta against the Volturi, the force that overthrew them. They are consumed with useless plots to reestablish Romania as the one, true power. They don't even realize that the rest of us are here. They honestly believe they are the only two Romanian vampires left in this world. In reality, the Romanian organization – I won't call it a coven because it's made up of too many independent parts – is enormous and thriving. The organization is bigger than any outside parties know. Bigger probably than most of the inside parties even know. Around the sixth century, the Volturi crushed the ancient Romanian coven with shocking brute force. The Italians had amassed their strength in secret, so the Romanians never saw it coming. Their prized castles were demolished, and only a dozen Romanian vampires survived the vicious attacks, including Vladimir and Stefan. Although the Volturi had destroyed their palaces and taken much treasure, the Ancients had had the foresight to hide the bulk of their fortunes deep in the hills. It was protected in cooperation with the reclusive Carpathian hill witches.

After licking their wounds and plotting for half a century, the Ancients decided to rebuild their forces, and so they began a 'recruiting' campaign and created more vampires. The plan was to educate and train these new vampires, so that one day, they could attack the Volturi and reclaim Romanian supremacy.

Much of the education and training focused on tactics of intimidation. The New Romanians were enthusiastic and went on to develop the most lasting and powerful instrument of Romanian intimidation – Vlad the Impaler. They watched the antics of the sadistic, fifteenth century, human ruler, Vlad III - also known as Drakulya, and saw how he could help them. They encouraged the use of the nickname 'the Impaler' and spread rumors that he would join the world of the immortals at the moment of his human death. These rumors spread fear not only among humans, but also among vampires around the world. This fear still lingers because no one has ever proven that Vlad isn't still among us, a secret part of the New Romanian organization. The initial plans were for the New Romanians to actually welcome Drakulya among their ranks, but in the end, the psychotic ruler proved too erratic, even for power hungry vampires.

The New Romanians appreciated their culture's rich history and also learned from it. They studied it and saw the drawbacks to being the recognized world leader. They weren't interested in a life of paranoia and constant conflict. The New Romanians were not so much concerned with controlling the vampiring world as they were with preserving their own legacy. They recognized that their long and imposing history was, and still is, their key to status and superiority. United in this vision, the New Romanians furtively pushed the Ancients to the side into dubious roles and set themselves up in true positions of leadership. They were no longer interested in conquest. They would pursue their own interests from a position of quiet power and let the Volturi deal with the messes of governing.

The New Romanians went again to the hill witches for help. I don't know what promises this new generation made to the witches, but they convinced them to use their magic to help carve out the insides of the hills in a labyrinth of hallways and secret rooms. This underground complex has served as the organization's headquarters ever since. At the center of the complex is a huge room where historical relics are displayed. A museum. Among those relics are the bones of the naïve hill witches, who could only have believed the new generation would make good on their promises as their predecessors had done. Boy, were they wrong. Once the witches' magic had served its purpose, the entire colony became the main course at the vampires' celebratory, grand- opening feast. The New Romanians weren't interested in conquest, but they weren't interested in playing fair, either.

Headquarters was completed, the organization was thriving, but still the Ancients couldn't let go of their vendetta against the Volturi. The New Romanians saw this vendetta as a troublesome distraction that would never go away, so they launched a half-hearted attempt at a takeover. Curiously, all of the remaining Ancients, except for Vladimir and Stefan, were posted in the front lines and destroyed immediately. The Romanians retreated in defeat with Vladimir and Stefan protesting the entire way back. It was during this long, depressing journey home that the minds of these two seemed to have lost the developments of the previous millennia. They returned to their former palace much as they remain today. They didn't realize that the only reason they were still around was because the New Romanians had unabashedly preserved them as living relics for the museum. They became part of the exhibit.

With the Ancients out of the way, the New Romanians gave the organization the benign title of Blood-Drinker's Institute of Transylvanian Existence, B.I.T.E., and forged a truce of sorts with the Volturi. According to the agreement, both sides agree to stay out of each other's way. This is not a problem, since the Italian and Romanian vampires have such different goals. It's sort of like the difference between Parliament and the Royal Family in England. Parliament, like the Volturi, runs things, while the Royal Family, like the B.I.T.E., carry on the history and tradition of the culture.

B.I.T.E. branched out in their collections and began storing information about vampires from around the world. It is this vault of information that I am after. Once I regain my place in the organization, I will have free access to peruse the collection. The information there will be invaluable in formulating my master plan.

The ambitions of the new organization led to a new recruiting campaign. As had always been done, only those humans of pure Romanian blood lines were transformed. This was when I was created by one of the top New Romanians, Viktor. After a couple of wild years during which I terrorized small, Ukrainian villages, I was brought into the fold and trained along with the twenty or so other newer recruits. I learned quickly and rose to the top of my class. I became a great favorite of Viktor's. But I was missing something that none of them seemed to notice; I lacked ambition. All I really cared about was having a good time. Learning was entertaining; kicking my cohorts' ass in every respect was a riot; high praise from Viktor in front of all of them was a blast.

But the fun couldn't last forever, and once that ended, I felt the siren call of the big, wide world, and I left. Without a word to anyone, I left. Saying good-bye might have helped pave an easier way for me now, but I never expected that I would one day return, so I hadn't bothered. Now I was going to have to kiss a lot of cold, B.I.T.E. butt.

Part of the sucking up included appropriate attire. I'd ditched the pale, baggy linens and casual shoulder-length hairstyle I'd grown accustomed to in my care-free life with Father Pawel. That would never fly with the 'Royals.' Their tastes were heavily influenced by the stuffy communist regime that ruled the humans in this part of the world. Purchasing my new, conservative wardrobe had depleted my already low funds. Two centuries of care-free gallivanting hadn't come cheap. I knew I was going to have to find some kind of work soon, anyhow. Might as well be here.

I approached Vladimir and Stefan in a black, button down blouse – buttoned all the way to my throat and stiff collar turned up – and a short, thigh-hugging, black skirt. My coal black hair was cropped short and plastered sleekly along my scalp. Long, silver spikes hung from my earlobes. Before leaving the cover of the trees, I slipped on the plain, black pumps that I'd carried across the mountains.

"Look at this one," Stefan said in a misty voice that sounded like it was covered in cobwebs.

"Another tourist?" Vladimir asked, the words seeming to flow out of his mouth in a fog.

I'd crossed the old fogies' paths a bazillion times in the past, but they had no recollection of me. They wouldn't. As far as they knew, I didn't exist. Neither did the several other Romanian vampires that roamed past them into and out of headquarters every day. They would never again acknowledge us and were apparently explaining away our presence by assuming we were tourists.

"Shall we rip her throat out?" Stefan asked. Part of their dementia included not realizing that others could hear them.

Vladimir wrinkled his nose and said, "She looks sour. I'm waiting for something sweeter."

I walked directly up to them and said in a booming voice that nearly knocked them off their pedestals, "Buon giorno!"

They froze at the Italian. Only their eyeballs moved to glance first at each other and then at my ivory skin. I knew they were worried that I might be with the Volturi.

"Il dolce far niente, eh?" (_The sweetness of doing nothing._) I said lightly. Just a nasty reminder that they sat around like lumps all day while the world was busy around them.

Their eyeballs flicked off me, and they sat perfectly still, staring at nothing. The old codgers were both insulted and terrified. It wasn't nice to tease them, but it was terribly fun. Besides, they deserved it after that _sour_ comment.

"Arrivederci!" I called over my shoulder as I stepped past them. I snickered as I made my way to the center of the stony maze and out of their sight. At least there were going to be _some_ enjoyable benefits to returning.

I arrived at a stone, trap door with a round, metal handle and heaved it open. Security precaution number one – the door was much too heavy for a human to lift. I looked down into security precaution number two – a dark pit that looked like nothing more than…a dark pit. No human would see any point in venturing down there. I crouched and jumped down the fifteen feet, pulling the trap door shut behind me.

I landed squarely on my feet and looked around in what would be pitch blackness to human eyes. I spotted the protruding stone – security precaution number three. I leaned close and breathed on it. The ancient-looking stone was actually a high tech device created by the New Romanians just before I left them. It encoded the breath of all authorized vampires, like a fingerprint but more reliable. The stone shifted in, and I was relieved to see that my authorization hadn't been revoked. A few more stones moved aside, and I crawled through the opening into a long corridor – security precaution number four. The long corridor's temperature was so frigid that no human would survive walking the length of it.

My hand touched the handle of the single door at the end of the corridor, and a breathy, female voice said from out of nowhere, "It's been a while."

There was no going back now. They knew I was here.

I stepped through the door into a modern reception area of grey metal and glass. The décor was definitely bare minimum minimalist. I looked to the receptionist with her sheets of straight, brown hair hanging like curtains on either side of her somber features. Nicole. She was exactly as I'd left her. We didn't exchange greetings. There was no point.

"Viktor is waiting for you. Conference Room B. You remember the way?"  
"Yes," I answered.

Viktor was already waiting for me. This was either very good or very, very bad.

I clicked my way down another long corridor to Conference Room B. I didn't know it then, but the beginning phase of construction on my wall had already begun. I needed to win back the trust of these vampires, but I couldn't tell them everything. Besides not revealing my true purpose, I couldn't let them know that I personally was no longer drinking human blood. It went against the whole jealously preserved, Vlad the Impaler mystique of the New Romanians. It simply wouldn't be tolerated. Not yet. I had years of work ahead of me before I'd be able to even consider sharing that secret.

And I could never ever let them know about Father Pawel. They would kill him. The Volturi was very specific that no humans were to have any hint of our existence, and B.I.T.E. would not risk their precarious relationship with the domineering Italians just so I could keep my buddy.

Luckily, no one in the Romanian organization possessed special gifts, like mind reading or premonitions. The organization adhered to tradition and didn't mess with these primarily newer phenomena. We were happy with good, old-fashioned, super-human speed, strength, hearing, and vision. That's one of the reasons we'd never hope to overthrow the Volturi, who almost exclusively recruited based on these freaky, but advantageous, gifts. If a gifted vampire was accidentally recruited into our organization, they were either politely asked to leave or ripped into pieces and burned, depending on how potentially dangerous their unfortunate gift could be to us.

It was weird to me that I was already thinking of myself as part of 'us.' I guess once you'd truly become part of the organization, you never really left it. It was in my blood, so to speak.

I forced my mouth to spread into a smile that I didn't feel as I stopped in the doorway of Conference Room B.

"Ah my Little Beta," Viktor said in his calm, soothing voice as he came around a long conference table. He grasped my shoulders and touched his smooth cheek to mine. And so our subtle dance began.

"I actually go by Elie now," I told him respectfully.

"Ah, but I didn't get the chance to watch you grow into this Elie, so I'm afraid you will always be Little Beta to me," he said pleasantly, taking my hand and patting it.

I gave a small smile at the rebuff, and met his even gaze. His receding hairline, which led to short, salt and pepper hair, and the wrinkles around his brilliant, marbled black and gold eyes completed his image of authority. Viktor had been converted at a relatively mature age. He'd been recruited specifically for his leadership skills and was a permanent fixture at the top of the New Romanian pyramid. He wasn't a large man, physically. He didn't have to be.

Viktor kept my hand and led me around the table. For the first time, I noticed that we were not alone. I'd been so focused on Viktor. This other vampire had been converted at a younger age than had Viktor, I guessed in his early thirties, but was still relatively old by vampire standards. He had wavy, black hair that was grown out longer than the close, commie crop that was common in these parts. His dark eyes had a softness to their tint, almost like you see on humans occasionally. He had strong, handsome features and, although he was clean shaven, his face had the look of being on the verge of stubble in just a few minutes.

I would have written him off as your everyday, devastatingly gorgeous vampire, except for a mottled scar at the right peak of his upper lip. It wasn't big, but its whiteness interrupted the rich redness of his mouth and made him…interesting.

"Allow me to introduce you to Gregorio," Viktor said, passing my hand off to the stranger.

The stranger took my hand and seemed to contemplate kissing it, but instead gave it a polite shake. Good choice.

"Gregorio? That's a little _Italian_, isn't it?" I asked, my gaze back on Viktor.

Before Kristoph, I'd heard that B.I.T.E. had brought in some sort of foreigner, but I hadn't paid the rumor much attention. They'd always been so rigid about Romanian nationality that I guess I hadn't believed it. To find out that it was true was shocking, and I couldn't hide my surprise.

Even though my question had been directed at Viktor, the foreigner answered in a smooth, deep voice. "My mother was Italian. My father was Romanian," he said.

"Where were you converted?" I challenged, snapping my gaze back onto him.

Viktor chuckled softly and laid his hand on my shoulder.

"It's good to know your nationalism still runs strong, Beta. Why, one would almost think you'd never left," he said. It was yet another gentle reminder that I had, in fact, left. "But you don't need to worry about Gregorio."

Viktor's other hand moved to clap the Italian fondly on his shoulder. Viktor had to reach up, because this stranger was quite a bit taller that him. He was also taller than me, even with my high heels. Viktor stood between the two of us, each of our shoulders firmly in hand.

"He has more than proven that he his worthy of our trust. His is like my adopted child," Viktor explained.

Viktor obviously wanted my acceptance of this stranger, so I plastered on a smile and said, "Aren't we all."

"No, Beta," Viktor said, shaking his head as a cloud crossed over it. He removed his hand from Gregorio's shoulder and moved it so that he held my neck gently in both of his hands while he glided his cold thumbs along my jaw bones. "My venom courses through your veins. You are not adopted; you are _mine_."

I suppressed the snarl that instinctively rose up in me. He hadn't said this last sentence affectionately or even possessively. It was a bald threat.

I kept my composure. I had hoped this next part of the conversation could be done in private, but it appeared that I'd best get to it as soon as possible.

"Viktor, I wish to return to the organization. I am sorry that I left, but I was very young and didn't understand what I was walking away from. I have learned much through the years, and I now understand that this is where I belong. I come here today fully prepared to serve Romania and to serve you."

Viktor examined me for a long moment before breaking the deafening silence.

"Pretty words, Beta," he said and released my neck with a small jerk. "You know, Gregorio here left a fairly powerful organization once. You may have heard of them – the Volturi. Tell me, son, how would they react to such a pretty speech from you? Would they take you back?" Viktor's voice was oily and slick.

"No, sir," Gregorio answered.

My eyes flicked onto him. His gaze was downcast onto the long table. Coward. He couldn't even look at me. I knew better than to trust an Italian, even if Viktor didn't.

"And this is after he fought valiantly for them in many treacherous battles," Viktor said with a meaningful glance at me.

"Is that how you got the scar?" I asked. I was going to make the coward look me in the eye after doing me in.

The Italian did look up at me. He wore a bemused expression, probably wondering how I could ask such and inane question at a time like this.

"No, that's not how I got it," he said with a small twitch at the corner of his mouth.

It was my turn to look down at the long table as I awaited my sentence.

Viktor said in a low voice, "Lucky for you, Beta, we are not in Italy." Then he leaned his lips to my ear and said quietly, "Welcome home."

My head whipped up and toward Viktor, and I blurted incredulously, "Really?"

So much for my cool composure, but I couldn't believe it had been this easy!

"Yes, Beta, welcome home," he said again with outstretched arms. I moved to him for a real hug while I relished my victory. I peered over Viktor's shoulders at the traitor. He was watching me mournfully. Sore loser. I thought about sticking my tongue out at him, but I was filled with too much good will.

Viktor released the hug, but kept an arm over my shoulder. He started moving me toward the door.

"Now, for a few minor procedures before we can reinstate you," he said as we walked.

When we reached the door, the Italian called out, "Miss Elisabeta."

Viktor and I both stopped and looked at him. By the increased tension in Viktor's grip on my shoulder, I could feel that even he was surprised at the interruption.

The stranger's dark eyes were fixed gravely on me when he said, "Good luck with your reinstatement procedures." He couldn't even work up a false smile through his jealousy.

My lips stretched into an evil grin, and I gloated, "It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it."

Viktor chuckled lightly at this 'sibling rivalry' as he led me out of the room and down the hall. We were moving away from the reception area. He stopped me at a thick, metal door, and we walked through and down another, narrower hallway. As we moved down this hall, Viktor dragged his hand slowly up and down my back. It felt as if he was again asserting his ownership.

I recoiled internally. I despised this entire charade, but it was for the greater good, and so I would endure it. For Father Pawel, I would endure it. For Kristoph, I would endure it.

"Have you ever had anyone leave you, Beta?" Victor suddenly asked.

I thought about it and answered truthfully, "Not voluntarily."

"Hmm…yes, well, either way, how did that feel to you?"

"Not good," I answered cautiously. My steps slowed as I again grew wary.

"Not good," Viktor repeated and dug the tips of his fingers into my back. "Yes, well put. That's exactly how it feels, isn't it?"

His voice was too smooth. Too calm.

"It's about trust, really," he continued as he stopped and opened up yet another thick door. It was dark beyond this door, and I couldn't see where it led. He motioned for me to step inside, which I did.

It didn't lead anywhere. It was just a small, body-sized closet.

I turned questioningly to Viktor.

"I have to learn to trust you again, my Little Beta," he said softly and slammed the door in my face.


	6. Confinement

Chapter 6

Confinement

Viktor slid open a small, rectangular opening on the upper part of the door he'd just slammed on my face. His creased, marbled eyes peeked through at me.

"I'm sure you will understand that for the good of the Romanian organization, I need to be absolutely certain that you truly want to be here this time, that there are no…ulterior motives. Please know that you are free to leave at any time. Simply say the word and you will be released. But also know, if you leave again, you will _never_ be able to return."

"How long--" I began before Victor cut me off.

"Uh, uh, uh, Beta. You will not be asking the questions, only answering them," he said then snapped the trap door shut. I couldn't hear his footsteps moving away, because the tiny, dark closet in which I was trapped was completely sound proofed.

Perfect. Wonderful. I was such an idiot.

I couldn't believe that I'd thought it was going to be that easy. Of course Viktor would put me through a test. My last two hundred plus years were wholly unaccounted for. I hadn't exactly been living in the public eye. Viktor had no way of knowing what I'd been up to. For all he knew, I was getting paid to smuggle out information or treasures for any number of covens that would pay for them. In three million years he'd never suspect my real purpose for being here. He'd probably only laugh at me if he did. Still, I couldn't expect his support for my little project, so I had to keep my mouth shut.

I stood – it was really the only position possible in the upright-coffin-like space – and waited. And waited. And waited. Then – I waited some more. Nothing happened. Nothing at all. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

I began to think that maybe I was wrong. Maybe this wasn't a test. Maybe it was a punishment. Maybe Viktor was going to leave me here to rot.

Except I wouldn't rot. I would decline and decline until I was a useless lump on the floor with only my tortured thoughts to keep me company. A slight panic raced across my chest as I flashed back to those unbearable months lying in the field. My eyes rapidly flicked around the small, enclosed space, which restricted my movement and left me entirely alone with my thoughts, and I realized that it was already unbearable. The panic began to burn.

Viktor had said I was free to leave. '_Just say the word.'_ Was he serious? Surely no one would blame me if I took him up on the offer. I'd tried in my mission, and I'd failed. I could go back to my easy life knowing that I'd done my very best. I paused in this train of thought when I pictured myself telling Father Pawel that I'd given up, imagined the disappointment on his round face. Well, maybe I could continue the mission without the help of the Romanians. I could round up the few veggies I knew and together we could change the world – with little to no real information or credibility to back us up, with little to no reason for anyone to listen to me. I blew out a long, protracted gust of air. To succeed, I needed what B.I.T.E. could give me. I had to stay. If I was ever going to be able to stand to live with myself, I had to stay.

I stood erect and stared at the door. I wasn't waiting any more. I was thinking. I was thinking about Kristoph. I'd managed to amuse myself enough in the last few years to distract from and dull the anguish conjured by these memories. Alone with him in the dark closet, the pain seared stronger than ever. _His cries, his struggle, his last breath. _Worst of all was the image of his beautiful, living face staring up at me at a quiet, intimate moment, his blue eyes trusting me. Trusting me with everything.

My fists clenched into balls and smashed themselves against opposite walls as the old, familiar scream built up in me. The scream I would never allow myself to release. It compressed and twisted every muscle and clawed its way up my throat. It took all my effort to keep it locked inside.

The trap door slipped open. Eyes so black they were almost purple peered at me. Without even trying, I slid Kristoph to the back of my mind, and my face became a stoic mask.

"My God, Beta, it _is_ you," a familiar voice from the past chirped.

"Martina," I said with false warmth. Martina and I had trained together way back when. "So good to see you. Please, call me Elie."

"Elie? Weird, but okay," she answered with a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

"So how've you been?" she asked as if we'd just happened to bump into each other on the street.

"Well, you know, besides being held in captivity, pretty good."

"Yeah," she said uncomfortably. "B--, uh, Elie, what'd you do? You really threw us all when you left. Why'd you do it?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. Adventure, excitement, call of the wild."

"But to just walk away. No warning. No nothing?" Her eyes carried a hurt expression.

Puh-lease. Martina was probably more excited than anyone that I'd left. I'm sure she slithered quite readily into my place at the top of the class.

I shook my head sorrowfully and told her, "I was impulsive, young, stupid. It took me a long time to admit that I was wrong and an even longer time to work up the courage to face you all. But I missed you too much. Missed Romania. This is where I belong. My home. It's worth whatever hoops I have to jump through."

She silently observed me for a few minutes, her eyes steady on me and calculating. When she spoke again, her questions came with great rapidity. She waited only long enough for my faultless answer before firing off another.

"So, tell me about the world, Elie. What did you do out there? Where did you go? Who did you meet? Will you ever go back? Why'd you come back? Why now? What took so long? Who did you meet? Why now?"

Every few days, someone new would come by with another barrage of essentially the same questions. They were looking for a crack in my story, inconsistencies. But my story held strong, always the same answers.

"I was impulsive, young, stupid. I was wrong. This is where I belong. I traveled; I was a nomad. I met various other vampires, but never stayed in one place long, never formed any lasting relationships. This is where I belong. I love Romania. I love Romania."

Sometimes they tempted me with food – an invitation to hunt big game or a fresh bag of blood just outside the door. All I had to do was tell Viktor I wanted to come out. All I had to do was give up any chance at ever re-entering the B.I.T.E. organization. I always politely refused and the burning in my throat began to throb. But I knew that I'd survived starvation before, and I could do it again.

In between visits, my memories haunted me, flooded my brain with room for nothing else, just as it had been in the fields of Poland. But somehow I wasn't consumed with the same despair. There was something else there. Something I didn't have in those months after Kristoph. I had my psalm. I had my psalm which I repeated to myself over and over and over again when the pain threatened to overtake me. I was forgiven. I didn't need to torture myself. I also had Father Pawel, who I knew was praying for me every night. I felt his prayers and they kept me strong, kept me from sinking too low.

I was confident that my interrogators would never shake me. But I worried about who might come next. If B.I.T.E. had accepted an ex-Volturi among their ranks, perhaps the ties between the two organizations were stronger than they'd been when I'd left. I knew they'd never have taken this Gregorio in if they thought it might upset the balance between the two organizations. Perhaps it had fortified it, brought it to a new level. I worried that the New Romanians might relax their guidelines regarding the 'gifted' and invite someone from the Volturi to help them out once in a while. Would I be faced with a mind reader or some other psychic power?

I worked every day, every minute to construct my wall, pushing my secrets behind it so that no one, no one, no one could get back there. I visited behind the wall every day to keep myself grounded, in touch with my true self, but it wasn't always easy. Keeping my secrets separated like that took away the dilution factor of my other thoughts. Whenever I went back there, I was hit full force with every ounce of the pain, the love, the horror, the beauty, and the heartbreak. But I was deft at jumping over the wall in a fraction of a second, so I was ready every time the trap door slid open.

With my thoughts and emotions under absolute control, and my growing hunger sill bearable, my biggest challenge became the boredom. The hours and hours of nothing between the brief visits. Four close walls, darkness and me. Hours and hours of four close walls, darkness and me. It wasn't my tortured memories that were going to get me, it was the boredom. The excruciating boredom.

It became imperative that I find ways to amuse myself. I made a game of literally climbing the walls by pressing my hands and feet against opposite walls and working my way to a scrunched up position at the ceiling and then dropping. I would see how many different positions I could land in. Sometimes I would wait at the top of my cell until a visitor came. Then I would fly down and scare the bejesus out of them.

The game morphed over time, and one day I found myself unexpectedly upside down in the small cubicle. I couldn't figure out how I'd gotten into that impossible position and so had no idea how to get out of it. Just as I put my mind to the task, I was surprised when the trap door suddenly slid open. Caught off guard, my arms buckled under me, and I crumpled. My back was curled onto the small square of floor and my legs were sprawled against the wall. I struggled with my arms to wedge my skirt, which had bunched around my waist, back along my thighs where it belonged.

"Relax," said an arrogant voice with an Italian accent. "Its nothing I haven't seen before."

"Really?" I responded dryly. "Regularly hang out with contortionists, do you?"

Once I had my skirt back in place, I looked up at Gregorio's soft, black eyes, which now shined with curiosity.

"I see you are enjoying yourself. I take it that means you're doing alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm peachy," I grunted as I lifted my right shoulder against a side wall and my left one smashed onto the floor. Both legs fell with a thud against the opposite wall.

I continued struggling and said, "This could take a while, so you may as well get on with it."

"With what?"

"With your questions. Or shall I save you the trouble of asking and just give you the answers?"

"Will they be any different from the answers you've already given?"

"Nope."

"Then what would be the point?"

I blew out a frustrated burst of air as I realized that my shoulder could make no further progress up the wall. My spine simply didn't have that kind of flexibility. I was stuck and had to back track, climbing my legs back up the wall and sliding my shoulders to the floor.

"Right. No point. So, I guess you'll be leaving then. Like I said, this could take a while," I told him.

"Oh, I certainly hope that it _does_ take a while," he said with an inappropriately interested edge to his voice. I looked up again at the small rectangle from the floor and saw his appraising eyes unabashedly scan me from kinked neck to crooked ankles as I wriggled to straighten myself.

"You, sir, are a perverted letch," I told him.

He merely lifted and lowered his eyebrows in a kind of shrug and made no move to avert his gaze.

Despite myself, I laughed and got a new idea.

"Well, as long as you've seen it all before," I said and pointed my legs straight up and pushed off the floor with my arms so that my body was a straight, thin line pressed against the back wall. I slowly bent my knees forward, holding my calves tight to my thighs. I gingery continued tilting them downward until my legs had lowered all the way to my sides. I didn't dare look toward Gregorio's curious eyes as I dexterously manipulated my body. He stayed deadly quiet, which I could only assume meant that he was paying rapt attention to my progress.

I unbent my legs and lowered my calves so that my feet once again rested on the floor. I slowly rounded my spine up until I stood upright with my back to the door. I sighed with satisfaction and turned to face my audience.

"How was that?" I asked him.

"A plus," he said admiringly. His eyes flashed with a bright excitement.

I narrowed my eyes accusingly at him and said, "You knew he was going to do this."

"Yes, I knew," Gregorio admitted, his soft, dark eyes going dim. "Don't underestimate Viktor. He's going to find out your real reason for coming back eventually. He probably already knows and is giving you this chance to tell him on your own, so you can redeem yourself. It will be better for you to come clean now." He stared at me warningly after he'd finished. He was clearly waiting for a response.

"Thanks for the tip," I said casually, as if he'd just relayed something as trivial as a weather forecast. I was fairly certain that he was bluffing.

His eyes hardened.

"Most people would take an indefinite stint in confined solitary at the Romanian compound very seriously," he said.

"I'm not most people," I assured him with my eyes steady on his.

"So I'm learning," he said sourly.

He held my gaze for a few moments, and without another word, slid the trap door shut, and that was the end of that day's entertainment. The next day's entertainment was a bit more…entertaining.

Viktor, himself, came for me this time. He opened the door, and light from the hallway flooded into my small space. I squinted at the shock of it. It took my vision a few minutes to adjust.

"Beta," Viktor said curtly in greeting.

"Viktor," I said equally curtly in response. I couldn't keep the ice out of my tone. I didn't blame him for testing me, but I resented the way he'd tricked me into it. He was my creator and had been my biggest fan. We had a special bond. It seemed like he owed me better.

"Come," he said and stepped aside, motioning for me to step into the hallway.

I stepped out barefoot, because my pumps had been irreparably damaged during one of my games. With a guiding hand at my elbow, he led me down the hall. After a few paces, he spoke again, his voice still reserved.

"You have proven that your mind is strong, Beta. Remarkably strong. Thirty days in confinement and alert as ever."

I could hear his pride in the compliment, but he was holding back. It was like he was intentionally keeping me at an emotional distance in case I didn't make it through the next test. It scared the hell out of me.

As we passed the shiny glass wall of a conference room, I caught a glimpse of my reflection. The hem of my skirt had become tattered and frayed, and my blouse loped halfway out of my waistband. The condition of my hair was the most shocking of all. Apparently I'd been pulling at it during all my deep thoughts, and it stood on end in haphazard clumps. I looked something like a black-haired Einstein. Like a homeless, degenerate version of Einstein.

Viktor opened another door and motioned me through. Without a word, he shut the door behind me, and I was again alone. This time I was left in a large, circular room. I'd guess it was about thirty feet in diameter. The floor was a perfect circle, and the walls were smooth and grey. The walls went straight up for about fifteen feet and then curved gradually inward for another five feet or so. There was a ten foot gap between the top of the walls and an arched, dome ceiling. I heard voices coming from that gap. I realized that there must be some sort of observation deck at the top of the wall. I was being watched.

Viktor's smooth, slippery voice rang through the large room from the gap.

"Now, Beta, let us see if your body is as strong as your mind."

A door-sized portion of the wall opposite me slid open and a haggard-looking man in jeans and a flannel shirt stepped through. He wasn't a vampire.

Oh, God. I hadn't bargained on this. They wanted me to rip this poor man to shreds and drink his blood. And they wanted to watch me do it. Shit! Had the Italian not been bluffing? Had Viktor guessed my secret and now he wanted proof - in front of witnesses? Shit! Merde! Shit! I didn't want to do it. I wasn't even a hundred percent sure that I could do it.

I closed my eyes in silent prayer. Was it okay to kill this one man if his death could potentially lead to the sparing of hundreds, thousands of lives in the future? I had to do it. I had to.

I kept my eyes closed and breathed in. I was starving. Thirty days since I'd last eaten. '_This should be easy,_' I thought. '_Just think of him as a bear, a mountain goat, as any other type of prey._' I sucked in air again through my nostrils. The delectable scent would trigger my natural instincts and I could get the whole thing over with before I even had time to think about it. It was strange, though. The human didn't smell good to me. He smelled…nasty. Was my sensibility for my noble purpose already so advanced that humans no longer smelled good to me?

A loud, rumbling noise from above caused my eyes to snap open and upward. The domed ceiling was retreating, revealing a clear, black sky studded with glimmering stars and punctuated by a big, bright, perfectly round moon.

A snarl emitted from across the room at my level. I slowly dropped my gaze to the sound. I saw a werewolf. A full-fledged werewolf. The man was a fricking werewolf! Child of the fricking moon! My worst fricking nightmare.

"Oh, sweet mother…" I murmured aloud and fell silent.

I thought I heard Victor's soft chuckle from above. Without realizing it, I'd leapt halfway up the wall at the furthest point from the monster. The walls weren't totally smooth; they had enough texture for me to grip onto them for a few, brief moments, but I was already slipping.

I'd never come face to face with a werewolf before. I'd had a few lessons on defending myself against them during my training, of course, but I couldn't recall a damn useful thing at the moment. The creature was absolutely hideous. His clothes had burst off at his transformation, and a few scraps of flannel clung to his matted fur. He'd grown at least a foot taller, and his shoulders and arms had tripled in size. His waist and legs remained thin, but looked ready to spring with sharp claws poking out like pitchforks from his huge feet and paw-like hands. Its long, vicious snout contracted into a snarl around his spiked teeth. From his deadly mouth spilled a mass of spit and drool. The smell throughout the room was now rancid.

I continued my slow slide down the wall, and the moment my feet touched the ground, the beast sprung at me. I was already safely across the room before he made it half way to my former spot. He slammed into the wall. He made another charge at me, but again he was no match for my vampiric speed. We continued this way for a long while. It could have potentially gone on forever, except that the werewolf was learning. He knew he wouldn't be able to catch me based on speed alone, so he was watching my responses to his every move and learning to predict my reactions.

I was reacting on pure instinct, so it wasn't like I was going to be able to easily alter my moves. He was going to figure me out eventually. I'd already had a couple of close calls by the time I realized this. I used every bit of my strength to scrabble all the way up one of the walls and make a leap to the inclined top of it. I hung from the top of the wall and struggled to find purchase with my feet. My plan was to climb over the wall to safety. I managed to get one elbow over the wall and saw that there was a small group of nearly ten vampires there. Most of them had taken a step back from the wall as I slung my arm over, but Viktor stepped up to me. He was holding a slender, silver wand sort of thing.

"Uh, uh, uh, Beta. That's cheating," he said and whacked my arm with the instrument.

"Cheating?" I shouted incredulously. Then a crippling pain ripped through my arm where he'd hit me, and I fell to the ground.

I landed on my feet and spun around in time to see the werewolf coming at me. I feinted right and went left, but the second it took me to plan this move cost me, and he clubbed my shoulder with his sharp talons, knocking me off balance. I stumbled but stayed on my feet and continued moving backwards, away from him. I was going to have to try something new.

I made a move he hadn't seen yet – I leapt straight toward him, but a little to the side so that I could swing to his back and avoid his teeth. I scratched his chest on my way around and spurts of blood spattered out of him. I ripped his ear half way off with my other hand and tore a large chunk out of his back with my teeth, spilling more blood. I kept moving and stood with my back against a wall. The puppy whimpered and assessed the damage, the looked back at me with a hate-filled gleam that hadn't been there before. He stalked toward me, half crazed with anger. This meant his reflexes would be off.

I waited until he was close, then I plowed my shoulder into his chest and spun his shoulders with my hands and hurled him into the wall. I'd scraped new, bleeding gauges into him in the process. He smashed into the wall and collapsed, unmoving. I stepped back to the center of the room and watched him. He was a stinking lump of bloody, matted fur. He didn't move. His chest didn't even rise and fall with rattled breathing. He didn't move at all. I stood staring at him for along while. It was over. What was next? I turned my head half way around and looked toward the observation deck, awaiting instructions.

That was my fatal mistake.

A snarl ripped through the room and a powerful thud hit me, blinding me for a second. I felt my body hurl across the room, and I felt a burning pain down my entire left side. Who would have expected a wolf to play opossum? The beast stayed a good distance from me, watching me to see how badly I'd been hurt. I allowed myself a brief glance down and saw that my clothes hung entirely away from my left side and in their place was a deep gash that extended from my rib cage down to my hip, then over and around the muscle of my left thigh. It troubled me that I no longer felt the pain.

I tried to stand, but I couldn't. The muscles of my left leg were torn and useless. I couldn't control my leg at all. I was done for. I had no hope of outrunning the wolf now. He knew it. His black lips pulled back in a hideous smile over his fangs and he moved slowly toward me, relishing my helplessness.

I heard voices raised in argument above me, but in my terror, I couldn't make out a word. There was some sort of clattering and shouts and then silence, as I assume they all trained their eyes on the floor, not wanting to miss a moment of my demise.

I could have closed my eyes and began reciting prayers under my breath. Prayed for salvation of my sorry soul. That wouldn't have been a bad idea, but I preferred to pray in a whole different way. I wasn't giving up this life God had given me without a fight. The idiot wolf paused under the full moon, its silver glow reflecting off his sticky fur, to howl in victory. I launched myself at him with all the power I had left in my right leg and knocked him to the ground. After a stunned second, he easily flipped my crippled body underneath him before I was able to get in a good bite or claw. His foul, slimy mouth slobbered on my throat as he moved in for the final bite that would kill me. Nothing could stop him now.

A loud blast echoed through the room and the wolf's warm, blood- and sweat-drenched body slumped onto me with all of its massive weight. Dead weight. Ding, dong, the wolf was dead. It took me several minutes to register this fact. By that time, the people from the observation deck swarmed around me and had rolled the beast off of me. A burly vampire that I'd know before, Felix, lifted me off the floor. Viktor stood next to him, beaming at me.

"Well done, well done, my girl," he said, sounding utterly tickled.

Behind Viktor stood Gregorio. He was clutching a rifle and was somehow blanched lighter than his normal pallor. He stared blankly ahead with a stricken expression on his face. So, he was the one who'd shot the werewolf and saved me. I watched him curiously as his eyes regained focus and settled on me, lying limp in Felix's bulky arms. Gregorio's eyebrows raised, and he dropped the gun dangerously to the floor and quickly pulled off his suit jacket. He took a step toward me and threw the jacket over my shoulders so that it covered me almost to my knees. I realized with a small amount of embarrassment that with my clothes in shreds, I'd been exposing more than my scar to the room full of people.

"Thank you," I croaked, my voice weak from the trauma.

Gregorio gave a slight nod, still looking inexplicably shell shocked.

"Oh, I'm afraid you're indebted to him for more than a jacket," Viktor chuckled. "He saved your life."

I stiffened. Even in my vulnerable condition, even though I very well should have been torn to tiny bits by then, I balked at the idea of owning anybody anything. Was the Italian going to hang this over my head once he'd recovered from his stupor? I opened my mouth to resentfully thank him again, but he stopped me with a small shake of his head.

He locked his eyes onto mine and said somewhat hoarsely, finding his voice again, "It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it."

He raised half a lip in a weak smirk. I smiled back. We'd just survived something together, and he wasn't going to make a big deal out of it or hold it over my head.

By the time Felix started moving toward the door to take me to the infirmary, Gregorio seemed fairly well recovered. His head snapped up as if he'd just remembered something, and he fished around in his pocket and pulled out a silvery tube. It looked like it held some sort of ointment.

"Miss Elisabeta," he said, stopping Felix. "Make sure to use this daily on your incision. It's specifically for werewolf injuries and will help you heal more evenly with less scarring."

He came over to tuck it into the pocket of his jacket as it draped over me. While there, he leaned in close to my ear and murmured so low that I was the only who could possibly hear him, "Let me know if you need any help rubbing it in."

Ah yes, the old perverted and over-confident Gregorio was back. I was surprised to find that I much preferred this Gregorio to the blanched and mute one of just a few moments ago.

"Don't make me laugh," I whispered to him. "It hurts too much to laugh."

Our eyes caught on each other mischievously for a second before he stood up and put on his arrogant poker face. What had freaked him out so much? And why was he carrying around werewolf ointment?

"Wait a minute!" I said. "Is that how you got your scar? From a werewolf?"

"No," he said as one corner of his red mouth twitched. "That's not how I got it."


	7. Meanwhile, Back at the Cullens'

Chapter 7

Meanwhile, Back at the Cullens'

Just like that, I was brought back into the fold of the Blood-drinkers Institute of Transylvanian Existence. During my recovery from the bout with the werewolf, several colleagues sent me large bouquets of fragrant flowers, and my room was always crowded with well wishers, all of them wanting to score points with Viktor, who was playing the proud father. I felt like the prodigal son in Father Pawel's bible – except that his father hadn't tortured and literally fed him to the wolves before welcoming him home.

Viktor set me up in a suite of spacious rooms in his wing of the compound. I was clearly back in his favor. He reinstated me into my old position as Cataloger in the archives, but that was as far as he'd go with career help. My success in the organization was entirely up to me. Although Archive Cataloger was the same position that had bored me beyond sanity in my younger years, the job held great appeal for me this time. Hidden amongst the volumes of data in the archives was a plethora of information on vegan vampires throughout history. As I cataloged, I culled the information pertinent to my research and made duplicates for my own private collection, which I kept hidden in my rooms.

It took me years to glean all the information I could from the existing archive. I then focused on increasing my influence in the organization, so I could expand my knowledge and connections. Even though Viktor took no part in my career advancement, it didn't hurt that everyone knew I was his girl. It also didn't hurt that I could be dazzlingly charming, even by vampire standards. I spent two decades turning the right heads and whispering in the right ears to get where I am now, right where I need to be.

The Archive Expansion Project was my idea, and I convinced the President of Research that it was the only way for Romania to remain relevant. I eventually coaxed a whole board of directors to commission a separate department for Diet, Eating Habits, and Rituals. After that, it didn't take much to persuade Vampire Resources that I should be appointed as the one and only member of that department.

My current position, which I've had for the last eight years, requires me to go out in the world to collect new information. So, I get to travel, travel, travel. Even while I was stationed in the archives, Viktor understood my wanderlust and had allowed me generous vacation time during which I was free to go wherever I pleased. I guess he figured it was better than losing me entirely. I usually went to see Father Pawel. He is still my well-protected secret. Now my freedom is almost total. I only need to return to headquarters once every two months to report on my progress.

Sometimes it's almost as if things are going too well for me. I have freedom; I make good money; I have security. It would be easy to lose myself in the life that everyone at B.I.T.E. thinks I'm living and forget about my grand plan. That's why frequent visits to Pawel are so important to me. I need his counsel, and I need to look upon his sunny face to stay grounded and remind me of why I'm doing this.

Another benefit of being gone from headquarters so much is that I'm able to avoid most of the pressure to follow up on those whispers. Most of it. Gregorio is being persistent. His ear had been particularly fun to whisper into, and I'm afraid I may have become a bit overzealous in my promises to him.

I still don't exactly trust him, but it's difficult to completely shut someone out once they've saved your life, especially once I learned that Gregorio had wanted to shoot the wolf earlier, right before it had howled. That's what the argument I'd heard coming from the observation deck had been about. Viktor had ordered Gregorio to wait, because he'd wanted to see what I would do. In his frustration, Gregorio had grabbed that blasted silver wand from Viktor and snapped it in two, sending it clattering to the floor. I had to love him a little bit for that. Then again, Viktor _had_ been right. I'd come back valiantly and impressed the lot of them. Maybe Gregorio's purpose had not been to save me but to cut me short of my glory. Hmm…

The best thing about the argument was that it had driven a temporary wedge between Gregorio and Viktor. It had given me just enough room to firmly implant myself into Viktor's good graces before they'd made up. Gregorio quickly earned his spot back as Viktor's golden boy, but now he had to share him with me, Viktor's golden girl.

Gregorio and I have a somewhat twisted relationship. One minute we're locked in subtle battle, like brother and sister competing for our father's affections, and the next minute we're whispering fervent innuendos to each other like love-starved teenagers under the bleachers at the big game. We've never actually done anything, but I suppose I'm going to have to follow up on those whispers one of these days – for the sake of the cause, of course.

The cause, yes, the reason I'm visiting the Cullens. After decades of collecting and assimilating information, I am almost ready for action. I can't do it alone. As step one in the action plan, I've gotten the idea to write a book, an informational book about the vegan lifestyle and its benefits. Step two is where I'll need help. I'll need missionaries to go out and promote the book and the vegan lifestyle. I think the Cullens will make the perfect missionaries. They obviously believe in the cause and they exhibit an intense loyalty, not a common trait among vampires. I'm going to need missionaries that are loyal to me and loyal to the cause or the whole thing goes up in flames. The trick is for me to gain their loyalty. It's clearly going to be an uphill battle after the way I've treated them – and continue to treat them.

You'd think that I'd have taken the kindness shown to me by my dear Father Pawel and learned how to show that same kindness to others. You'd think. For some reason, that's not how it works for me. Perhaps it's because all my love is poured on the diminutive figure of Father Pawel and all my sugar has been spent in Romania so all that's left for the rest of the world is my vinegar. I don't know. I'm not a psychiatrist. Whatever the reason, it is going to be very difficult for me to bring anyone else in, when I keep reflexively pushing them away. Even the Madagascar coven seems less than enthusiastic at my arrivals, although they always manage to soften me up a bit by the time I leave.

Before arriving at the Cullen's today, I'd planned on opening up to them and letting them in a tiny bit behind the wall, but the way things are going, I'm not so sure. Alice it tilting her head at me with a furrowed brow. She doesn't like me teasing Edward about the impending nuptials.

"Oh Elie, always joking," she says in an attempt to ease the tension.

It doesn't work.

Esme makes a nervous, fluttering gesture with her hand. Esme is good. Esme is kind. Esme thinks of everyone around her before she thinks of herself. Esme pretends to give her unending life purpose by taking care of these adult 'children' of hers that are more than capable of taking care of themselves. Esme makes me want to vomit. I like to see the venom I stir up in her. It's good to know she's not perfect.

"W-would you like to come to the wedding?" she asks, speaking for the family. Apparently Carlisle lets her take charge on trivial matters like weddings. "You would have been invited, of course, but nobody knew where to find you. Also, we need to watch the carnivorous vampire quotient with so many humans attending, of course," she adds nervously.

"Of course," I agree, narrowing my eyes at her. I could have some fun with this one. Hint at wedding-spoiler antics, how sweet blood tastes after its owner had consumed big, white, sugary cakes and all that. But I won't go there. Not today. "Thanks for the invite, but I'll be heading down your coast to Baja. Last chance to take advantage of all the revelry before they take off to college."

Esme's face relaxes with relief.

"Yep, so watch the news for reports of shark attacks," I tell them. By that I mean that _I'll_ be attacking the sharks, but let the Cullens think what they will. "You haven't lived until you've sucked on the neck of a completely blotto college student. Sometimes the buzz lasts for days." Not that I'd ever do it again, but I do sort of miss getting drunk off of intoxicated undergrads. Maybe I can coax a sea turtle into drinking a Mai Tai or something.

"It's rather sunny down in Baja, isn't it?" Carlisle says. I know he's asking out of genuine concern for me.

"Oh, don't worry; I don't go skinny dipping until after dark," I purr.

Emmett makes and odd sort of squeaking noise in his throat. I look sideways toward him at the table where's he's sitting and gawking at me. I give him a long, seductive glance, and his arm slams down on the table. If vampires could sweat, he'd be drenched.

Rosalie is fuming. Poor Emmett's going to be all revved up by the time I leave. She should really thank me. But she won't.

I am so saving Emmett's interview for last. It should be interesting for a couple of reasons. First of all, Emmett has the weakest motive for staying clean; I'm pretty sure he only does it for Rosalie. My research indicates that most successful vegan vampires are motivated by something more powerful than a shallow, blonde bombshell. I'm curious to find out how Emmett does it.

The other reason I look forward to Emmett's interview is because I know Rosalie will be listening raptly at the door the whole time. I promise she won't be bored. My questions are guaranteed to stray from standard research topics.

"Well, this has been a hoot," I say. "But I did come here with a purpose. Jasper, are you ready?"

"Go on up to Carlisle's office. I'll join you in a minute," he says with a commanding look that I don't dare disobey.

"Okie Doke," I reply and saunter up the stairs. I wait for him amongst the cluttered walls of Carlisle's office. I sit in the chair behind the desk. The power seat. I know what Jasper's doing downstairs. He has a gift for easing emotions. Right now, he's calming his family's nerves, which I've frazzled.

He walks into the office, shaking his head at me. "You always make more work for me," he says as he slides into the chair across the desk.

His tone is light, but I know he's pissed. He wants me to leave. He doesn't think I'm good for the Cullens. He's one hundred percent correct. And he doesn't know the half of it. I very well may lead this family into war.

We'll only be able to convert so many vampires to the vegan lifestyle before it's noticed, before leaders in our world – the Volturi, my Romanian cohorts – figure out what we're up to. They're not going to like it. Not one bit. It won't be so much about lifestyle choice as it will be about control. They won't like to see our growing influence in the vampiric world. They'll do something about it. Fo sho. It'll be a pissing match.

At some point, our missionaries will need to turn from their peaceful work to do battle. Yet another reason the Cullens are attractive to me – they can fight. Boy, can they fight. They recently took on a pack of rabid, young vampires and defeated them soundly. The Volturi investigated and suspect the Cullens were aided by a currently unknown force. I'm hopeful that this force that can be counted on to aid us again.

Look at me, already thinking in terms of _us_. I've got a looong way to go before the Cullens ever consider me part of their _us_.

I regard Jasper steadily. I consider broaching the subject with him, but my chest constricts, and I can't do it. I know that to win them over, I'm going to have to let them in. I know this, and I'm getting closer to doing it, but I'm not ready. Not yet. All the deception that got me to this point has been easy; it is the honesty that's going to be difficult.

I spread my palms out flat on the desk in front of me. "I could use a little Jasper magic. Hit me," I say and suck air in as if I'm inhaling his vibe. I do actually start to feel a little better.

"Don't you see that you're the one who provokes the tense atmosphere around you? Why do you do it?" Jasper asks calmly. He's not accusing. I think he might actually be trying to help.

My eyes narrow, and I tell him, "I'm the one asking the questions around here, bub."

He nods his head slightly; he's not going to push me. "Thanks for taking it easy on Esme this time," he adds softly.

We lock eyes for a second. Jasper is probably my favorite Cullen. The only one I can somewhat relate to. He comes from a background of violence and horror, as evidenced by the long scars slashed across his face. He's only become a vegan since joining the Cullens, and he struggles with it. He's interesting. I've often suspected that things between me and Jasper would have had the potential to become _very_ interesting if we both didn't like Alice so damned much. There's just something about a vampire with a scar. To quote my long-deceased Gato, '_Reow_.'

I answer Jasper's comment with a shrug. Things are starting to feel a little too nicey-nice. Time to get down to business.

Jasper answers every question with brutal and graphic honestly. It's exactly what I need – for both my research and my sanity. Stories of the hideous and terrible things that vampires have done in the throes of their bloodlust remind me why I'm doing this, why I'm trying for a less murderous, more peaceful culture. I need all the external bolsters to my resolve that I can get, because I won't always have Pawel. He's a very old man now. He's not going to live forever. He's going to leave me.

The temptation to bite him, to make my beloved Father Pawel immortal, to keep him forever is very great. But it would be so wrong. So very, very wrong. How could I trap his beautiful soul in his human body for eternity when it is so obviously meant to fly? How can I sentence him the way Viktor sentenced me? I can't. I won't.

Back in the day, Carlisle and I had had many philosophical discussions on the morality of transformation. He'd been toying with the idea of creating his own companions even back then. He made many convincing arguments - _only when they were dying, only to raise them to live clean_ – but in the end, we both knew it was selfish and wrong. I had thought we were on the same page. But somewhere along the way, Carlisle had changed his mind, gotten too lonely, gotten too weak. I was shocked when I'd heard that he'd transformed his first, then his second, third, and fourth. I'm sure he justified his actions to himself, but that doesn't change the fact that it was wrong. So terribly wrong. If word on the street is to be trusted, he is going to do it again. To Edward's bride. And supposedly the brainless wonder is willingly going along with it.

In that moment of heightened passion and terror when I was in the midst of killing Kristoph, I'd thought about transforming him, but it hadn't worked out. I guess the one thing about that night that I can be grateful for was sending him on to his rightful kingdom instead of imprisoning him on earth.

I can't believe Carlisle is going to do it again.

Although I must admit, knowing that there is this one imperfection in Carlisle is probably what keeps me from hating him.

If I succeed in my current mission, my next will be to halt the practice of transformation. Since my closest ally in mission number one is an active offender of mission number two, however, I will withhold judgment on this matter for now. All I can control is what _I_ do.

And so, one day I will go to Pawel, and he won't be there. I'll be directed to a simple headstone in a sparse graveyard on a desolate hill. And my eyes and my throat and my everything will choke with invisible tears. And I will sink to my knees in front of the cold, dead stone

And I don't know if I'll ever get up.

That's why I need to let someone else in – _soon_ – so that they can carry on with the mission if I don't get up. I have to make a move soon, or the dream will surely die with Father Pawel, because I don't think I'm going to be able to get up.

I have to let somebody in. I know that. But I'm not ready. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet. I don't know if I'll ever be able to do it. To reach out to anyone. What I need, what I've always needed, is someone to reach out to me. Carlisle, Kristoph, Father Pawel – they all reached out for me first. I've snapped at Carlisle's arms too many times now, and we all know what I've done to Kristoph's. All I have left is Father Pawel, and he is going to leave me.

A wave of despair and loneliness washes over me. I can feel Jasper working to lift my mood, but when emotions run this deep, they can't simply evaporate into nothing. I stare at Jasper helplessly, not quite able to snap myself back this time.

Jasper walks over and pulls me out of my chair and wraps his arms around me. I'm surrounded by his magic. He's not trying to dispel my mood any more. He's trying to let me feel it. He thinks I need to let it out. Maybe he's right. Maybe he's right.

My body is racked by silent sobs. I can't keep it in any longer. I shake, and Jasper grips me. I'd fall to the floor without his support. I shake, and Jasper grips me. I hate that I need him to hold me up. But I do need him.

I shake.

Jasper grips me, and I shake.

I hate that I need him. But I do.

The sobs subside. I've cleared enough room for Jasper to inject some hope, and I begin to feel better. I still don't know what I'm going to do, but I have to trust that something will come to me. I have to. I have faith.

Jasper can feel that I'm doing okay, and he holds me for an extra moment and whispers into my ear, "Don't worry, tough girl, I won't breath a word."

"You don't actually breathe anything, Jasper," I reply flatly.

"You know what I mean, smart ass," he says irritably and releases me.

I smile. Everything feels back to normal. Whatever that is.

Jasper and I head back downstairs, and I say brief goodbyes to the Cullens. Edward offers to walk me out, I assume so he can make sure I leave. He walks me to my rental car, the red minivan, and scoffs when he sees it. Snobby little prick.

"They say that people who drive expensive cars are trying to compensate for something they lack, like, say, a personality, for example," I comment.

Edward raises an eyebrow at me but says nothing, proving my point.

I get in and slam the door shut. I stick the key in the ignition, but before I turn it, Edward taps lightly on the window. I slide it down, keeping my eyes forward. I'm sure I don't want to hear whatever it is he has to say.

"Whenever you're ready, I'll be prepared to do whatever I can to help," he says evenly.

I'm completely dumbfounded. I've left a crack open somewhere and the intuitive little prick saw through it. I flip the ignition and turn to him, half expecting a sneering gloat. But his look is one of utter sincerity. My mind is reeling and lying open like a book, begging for him to read it. I throw the van in reverse and fly backwards.

I slam on the brakes, but before I switch gears to take off, I give Edward a hard look and think, '_Thanks, you little prick_.'

Edward laughs, and for the first time I appreciate that there are very few things in this world more beautiful than Edward's laugh.

I laugh, too, as I drive away. What do you know? My grand plan might actually work.


	8. Madagascar

Chapter 8

Madagascar

I am buoyed by Edward's break through. I don't know how much he's seen, but it's enough. He will surely be able to explain the basics to Carlisle and the others so that we can hit the ground running the next time we meet.

I go to Baja and hook up with some old acquaintances. I try to show them the joys of fishing, hoping that one day the ocean will become their primary source of food. (Oh, and in case you were thinking of trying it, sea turtles don't like rum.) I only stay in Baja for a few days, because I'm anxious to go to Father Pawel. I don't like being away from him for very long these days.

I drop in on Pawel at his new digs in a monastery for retired priests. The building is a blonde, stone complex with an open courtyard in the center. At the center of the courtyard is a simple, stone fountain. Father Pawel stays in one of the small rooms at the perimeter of the court, and I pretend to sleep in a cot in the guest quarters.

It's impossible for me to visit Father Pawel without coming into contact with the other inhabitants of the monastery. I don't want to freak them all out, so my skin is always fully covered, usually in loose, linen clothing, and I wear a wide-brimmed hat. Father Pawel's mental faculties are gradually slipping, and I'm not sure that he even remembers that I'm a vampire. He remembers me, though, and he still loves me. And I still love him.

True to form, he never questions my lack of aging. While his hair has gone white and frizzy so that it looks like it's going to fly off his head at a loud noise, and his already short body seems to have shrunken and hunched, I have remained fabulous as ever. He still introduces me to his colleagues at the monastery as his 'little friend' even though I now tower above him.

I stay with him for only about a week this time, and then I make my way to Madagascar. I want to keep the momentum rolling on my project, so I'm going to tell the Madagascar coven my plans and try to secure their commitment. I'm going to do it. Edward's offer of help has given me the confidence to go through with it.

I swim up on the beach and see the three Madigascarians building an enormous sand castle. They eye me warily, as they always do these days, but I don't have any inclination to start out sour. I'm too excited. I'm nervous, but I'm excited. They sense my positive mood and wave me over. We greet each other and talk about the weather and such things. I want them to be totally at their ease with me before I broach the subject. Maybe after a nice, big meal.

Plainsong brings us big leaves to poke into our castle's turrets. As we're adding these finishing touches, a small boat appears over the horizon. It seems to be headed straight toward us. It is. It's coming closer. I focus on the boat and see that it's Gregorio. I groan. What the hell is he doing here? He does this every once in a while. Drops in on me. Checks up on me. He's two levels above me and my department falls indirectly under him. Mine is such a small project from B.I.T.E.'s standpoint, though, so I don't understand why he pays my work as much attention as he does. I think he still doesn't trust me.

Normally, I only view Gregorio's pop-ins with a small amount of irritation. Sometimes he's a nice distraction. But today, I am pissed. I won't be able to talk openly about my plans with him around. I'm going to have to hide my frustration, or he's going to know something's up. I'll have to keep to my normal level of rudeness.

The boat stops far enough from shore so that it won't run upon the sand, and Gregorio anchors it. He steps to the edge and leaps to the beach, landing with perfect, cat-like reflexes. He's wearing an impeccably crisp, navy-blue business suit, which absolutely kills me. Only Gregorio would wear a suit to a tropical beach to meet up with a group of beatnik vampires.

He sticks the landing and straightens up. It's slightly overcast, so his skin is smooth and even toned. He wears his black waves oiled back, away from his face with one curl threatening to break away and slip attractively onto his pale forehead. Standing with the backdrop of the ocean and his speedboat, he looks like some kind of ad in GQ. His dark eyes shine with excitement from his race over the water, and his sculpted features are marred only by the tiny, white scar at the tip of his defined, red mouth. As irritated as I am, I can't help but think of how much I'd like to preserve this image of him on a poster to hang in my bedroom.

Pippa, Kevin and Plainsong have met Gregorio a couple of other times when he's popped in on me here, but they don't know him well, certainly not well enough for Pippa to greet him as warmly as she is.

"Gregorio," she sings and runs across the sand to him, taking his hand and walking him over. Now Kevin looks slightly pissed.

"What are you doing here, Gregorio?" I say coldly.

He smiles his GQ smile and says, "I felt the temperature drop across all of Europe and knew that your warming presence had left us. I've come to bring back the sun around which we all revolve," he says and reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out a pair of airline tickets.

I roll my eyes at his false flattery.

Pippa giggles and leaves Gregorio by me and goes to stand by Kevin.

"How'd you know where I was?" I ask suspiciously.

Gregorio looks up the beach and gestures toward our giant sand creation. "It was actually the castle that drew me here. The only accommodations fitting for the one, true, Romanian princess."

I laugh. Now I'm really pissed. He shows up and ruins my fun, and now he's making me laugh. Jerk.

"Romania needs her princess back. Unit meetings are beginning a week early. All departments must be present."

"Ugh," I groan. I hold out my hand for my plane ticket, but Gregorio slides it back into his jacket.

"I'll hold onto it. We'll travel together in the morning," he tells me.

Fabulous. One day to try to make progress here. I have to find a way to ditch the Italian.

"Well, I'm just working on some boring plant cataloging. You know, how environment impacts appetite and all that," I tell him. I'm pulling all of this out of my butt, but the way. "So, why don't you do something exciting and go shark hunting with Plainsong."

Gregorio curls his lip and says, "No thanks. I don't care for seafood."

"Why not?" I ask. Then it hits me. "Oooh, _that's_ how you got your scar isn't it? Nasty scrape with a barracuda, was it?" I've still not figured out how he got that scar. I do, however, know at least two hundred and forty ways he _didn't_ get it.

"Not how I got it," he says with a small smirk. "I simply don't like the taste."

"I'm afraid that's all we serve around here, mate," Kevin says, a friendly note of warning in his voice.

"I suppose I'll choke some down later, but for now, I'd like to see how the soft green of the forest plays off of Elisabeta's eyes," Gregorio says smoothly.

I make a retching noise. He's going to stay on me like stink on poop.

"Fine, but your fancy suit may get a wrinkle or two," I say, eyeing his attire.

"I'm prepared," he says and pulls a pair of swim trunks out from the inside of his jacket. What else does he have in there?

"Alright, get changed," I say with resignation.

He shrugs out of his jacket and hands it to me, then starts unbuttoning his shirt.

"Not here!" I yell.

He merely smiles seductively and keeps unbuttoning. He hands me the shirt, then starts on his pants. I turn away, but Pippa watches eagerly until Kevin drags her backwards into the trees.

"Dude, T.M.I.," Plainsong complains and walks away.

"All done," Gregorio says, and I turn around.

I nod in approval of his long board shorts. Now he looks like a page in Sports Illustrated.

"I would've expected you to have one of those little, Italian, Speedo jobbies," I tell him

"Oh, I do," he says. "I can change into that if you prefer."

"No! This is good," I say quickly. He takes back his clothes and folds them into a neat pile.

We deposit his suit by my backpack in Plainsong's hut and head into the dry forest where I pretend to study the foliage. I climb through the trees, examining leaves and appearing to catalog vital information in my photographic brain. In reality, I'm only making cursory observations, such as _green_ or _fuzzy_. After about an hour of this farce, Gregorio, who's been observing me closely the whole time, breaks the silence.

"Miss Elisabeta," he says just as I'm thinking '_Hmm, pointy._' I note that he's addressing me formally, the way he does in front of others at headquarters. "If you are sincerely studying these plants, then I have just burned all my suits and will be wearing my Italian, Speedo jobbie around headquarters from now on."

"Oh, Viktor's going to love that," I respond with a small chuckle.

Gregorio's standing on the same branch as me, and he steps closer, with his head slanted intimidatingly over mine. "Why are you here?" he demands. "I know you're not cataloging vegetation, and you were just here a month ago, so why are you back again so soon?"

I'm surprised by his directness. This is not how we usually play. I jump to another branch, inciting a wild chittering that echoes through the forest.

"If you must know, it's the monkeys," I tell him. "I'm madly in love with them, and I can't live without them. I simply won't be denied my monkeys."

Gregorio looks at me steadily and asks, "Does one of these monkeys happen to go by the name of Plainsong?"

"Plainsong? Well, yeah, I guess he is a bit of a monkey, isn't he?" I say, delighted at the thought.

Gregorio jumps to my branch. He's not amused.

"Oh, you think me…and Plainsong? Uh, no, that' not happening," I inform him. "But I hardly see why B.I.T.E. would care who I might or might not mate with."

"The organization doesn't want to lose one of our most talented researchers to an aimless git. And on a more personal note," he says, stepping close to me. I step back and now my back is pressed against the trunk of the tree. Gregorio keeps moving in closer as he continues slowly in a low, smooth voice, "It would be a shame to see you mated off before certain obligations have been fulfilled." He touches his fingernail to my cheekbone and drags it lightly down my face while he watches me hungrily. I knew it was only a matter of time before he got around to this.

"Not here, Gregorio," I say impatiently and drop down and flip myself to the next tree. "Look, I just came here for a little rest and relaxation. I'm on schedule with my research, so what's the big deal?"

"Weren't you just on break all last week? You didn't show up on the radar," he says.

"Are you tracking me?" I ask and get an uneasy feeling. "Gregorio, is Viktor worried about my motivation? Is he setting me up for another test? Not that you'd tell me if he was," I add bitterly.

"No. This has nothing to do with Viktor," he says. He looks like he wants to say more, but pauses.

I take the opportunity to ask him something I've been wondering for forty years.

"Do you remember the day we met?" I ask.

"Yes."

"You said you knew what Viktor was going to do to me that day. Is that because he put you through the same kind of test when you came over from the Volturi?" I want to hear that I'm not the only one that Viktor felt the need to test.

"No. I wasn't subjected to a test. Viktor and I knew each other fairly well before I came over. We both saw that the Volturi had begun to value gifted vampires over all others, regardless of how valiantly those others may have served them in the past. My opportunities with that organization were limited. Because of my bloodlines, however, I had other options. Viktor helped me to understand that my various skills would be both appreciated and rewarded Romania. So you see, Viktor had no need to test me, he recruited me. He wanted me."

"Viktor's glad I came back. He wants me," I say defensively.

"Yes, indeed, he wants you. I think if it had been anyone else returning, Viktor would have burst them into flames before they'd even made it into headquarters."

"You would've like that wouldn't you?"

"On that day, yes. It's the course I recommended."

I raise my eyebrows at his brutal honesty. "Why didn't he listen to you?" I ask.

"You are his Little Beta. His pride and joy. His creation. It bonds you together. Makes you special to him."

"Yes, but Viktor created lots of other vampires. He doesn't love any of them the way he loves me," I tell him. When I say 'love' I speak of the way Viktor loves. Viktor loves things, possessions. He loves me in the way that he thinks of me as his possession.

"True. Yes. There's something more. But it's the combination of that something plus knowing that his venom runs through you that makes his attachment to you unbreakable. Believe me; I've tried to break it."

"You seem to know a lot about the bond between creator and creation. How many vampires have you created?" I ask. It's something else I've been wondering for no particular reason.

He sniffs ironically and doesn't answer.

"Lost track?" I ask.

"Quite the opposite, actually. There's none to keep track of."

My jaw drops. "None," I say incredulously. It's not like every vampire out there has created, as a matter of fact, most haven't. But for some reason – I guess because of his stature and his rich background – I had assumed that he'd transformed at least a few people.

"Yes, it's one of the other areas that the Volturi deemed a shortcoming. I refused to hunt down and recruit for their gifted army. It was the one way they'd decided I could contribute, and I refused to do it."

"Why?" I ask, still astounded.

He sighs deeply. "Oh, Elisabeta, it's very complicated," he says, sounding as if the topic exhausts him.

I wait to see if he'll say more, but he doesn't. We're standing in opposite trees, staring at each other. We might actually agree on something. But he doesn't know it. I'm deciding whether I should tell him. He's deciding whether to tell me more. We're both standing perfectly still, wondering how much to trust the other.

We are so still that a lemur drops from out of nowhere onto Gregorio's head. Gregorio snarls in reflexive reaction and snatches the animal off his head. Before he can snap its neck, I jump onto his branch and grab it away.

"No, Gregorio!" I scold him. "This species is endemic to the island. We don't hurt them."

"Sorry…I…it startled me," he says, seeming uncharacteristically flustered.

I cradle the animal protectively, like a baby. It claws at my stone flesh a couple of times and then settles down. It sniffs curiously around my face. When its snout gets near my mouth, I give it a kiss.

"Lucky monkey," Gregorio says enviously, control back in his deep voice.

"It's a lemur," I correct him and release the critter into the branch above me.

"Lucky lemur," Gregorio murmurs, putting a hand on my waist. He makes a move toward me, and I scream playfully and jump to swing from another tree.

"Race to the beach!" I shout and keep going.

Gregorio chases me as we race through the trees to the beach. I get there first, but he swings himself further out into the sand, so we call it a draw.

The others are up the beach. I don't want to be alone with Gregorio anymore, so I run to them.

"Hungry?" I ask. "Maybe we can catch something big with five of us. Break our record and change Gregorio's mind about the taste of seafood."

They all agree, and we splash into the water. We don't find anything big, but Kevin spots a group of rays. After riding them around like flying carpets for a while, we suck them dry and then hunt individually until we're full. Pippa and Kevin disappear first. Plainsong soon follows them. I've had enough, but Gregorio is still hunting. When you live on a diet of human blood, it takes a bit more animal blood to satisfy. I pretend to search behind a reef but make for the beach instead. This is my big chance to talk to the others without Gregorio around.

I get to the beach. I don't see Pippa and Kevin, but Plainsong is at the edge of the trees, breaking branches. I listen intently for a minute, and I hear Pippa and Kevin giggling together in their hut. I'm not sure how amenable they'll be to my plan if I burst in on them right now. I look over at Plainsong. I think it's funny that Gregorio thought I had something going with him. He's awfully adorable in all his athletic lankiness with his shaggy, dark blonde hair, honey-colored eyes and dark, pooka shell necklace always at his throat, but he's a bit too mellow for me, a bit too simple. I prefer guys with an edge – and a brain.

Talking to Plainsong alone is not going to do much good. It would take too long to make him understand the intricacies of the plan, and I'm not sure he'll be able to relay the information clearly to Pippa and Kevin later. Time to accept that my trip here is a total bust. Damnit.

I walk to the edge of the water and plop down on the beach. I lean back on my arms with my hands propped in the sand. My legs are kicked out in front of me, crossed at the ankles. The ocean is nearly licking my toes. The sky has started to clear, and a few rays of sunlight send up random flares of light on my skin. Maybe a little time out from everything isn't so bad. I sit and relax.

Plainsong is starting to pile up wood down the beach for our bonfire tonight. Still no sign of Pippa and Kevin. I hear a slap of water and look out to see Gregorio swimming back to shore. He arrives at land and starts walking toward me. He's all sparkly with his wetness. He wears a lusty expression as he watches me reclining in my bikini. Since he's ruined any chance I'd had of actually accomplishing anything today, I've set my mind on total relaxation. I'm not in the mood for whatever he has in mind. Our flirtatious battles seem like too much work right now. I'm not going to let him drag me out of my relaxed stupor.

He walks up to me, and before he can say one pretty word, I cut him off at the pass. "One kiss, Gregorio," I say.

He raises an eyebrow in surprise and squeezes water out of his dripping locks as he continues toward me.

I tell him, "One kiss. Right here. Right now. But the deal is, you don't get to ask me for another thing while we're here. Take it or leave it."

He stands over me and looks down. "One kiss…" he contemplates out loud while his eyes trail down my length.

"On the mouth!" I stipulate sharply, drawing his gaze back up to my face.

"Hmm," he says, pursing his lips and furrowing his brow as he considers my offer. He's mocking me by treating this trivial matter as if it's serious business. "Will you open your mouth?" he asks.

"We'll see," I shrug noncommittally.

"Yes, we'll see," he says. "I accept."

He kneels down in the sand next to me, and we regard each other silently. Before I can laugh at how ridiculous we are, he slides his hand to the back to my head and yanks my hair back, tilting my head upward.

I gasp, and my lips part. Gregorio doesn't waste a second.

He touches his lips to mine, holding them open. His tongue rolls lightly along the inside edge of my mouth. I meet him, and the tips of our tongues dance delicately together. We both have our eyes open, but we're not looking at each other. With his hand, he turns my head slightly and tilts his in the opposite direction so that his mouth completely covers mine. My eyes close inadvertently, and our tongues swim in each other's mouths.

Our heads turn again, and I'm horrified to note that mine has moved of its own volition, and I am eagerly pressing up to Gregorio so tightly that I can feel the bump of his scar as his mouth moves on mine. I can't help it; Gregorio is delicious. I taste a trace of his latest kill, but it is his naturally bold, exotic flavor that is drawing me in. Gregorio is not gentle in his kiss, but he's not as insistent as I had expected, either, which makes me want more.

Our heads turn again, and he doesn't seem to mind my enthusiasm. His hand continues to hold my face firmly to his and his other hand has moved to the small of my back and is pulling me to him, crushing our torsos against each other. My arms are rigid poles jutting out behind me. I dig my fingers into the sand to keep my hands where they are instead of where they want to be. They want to be combing through the thick waves of Gregorio's dark hair and running over the muscles of his back. I know if I do that, this going to move beyond a kiss - way beyond - and that isn't part of the deal.

Our heads turn once more, and Gregorio slows down. He slackens his grip and slides his tongue from my mouth. He ends the kiss by pressing his firm, closed lips onto mine. When he pulls back, he's wearing a smug, satisfied grin. I am furious, because I know my expression is nothing like smug. If I look anything like I feel, I have the wide-eyed, helpless expression of a baby bird wanting more worm. I want more worm. God help me; I want more worm.

Gregorio leans forward and touches his lips to my forehead. "Well worth the wait," he murmurs, then gets up and strolls confidently across the sand to help Plainsong with the fire.

I'm nowhere close to being able to get up right now. I tear my eyes from his elegant gait and stare out at the water. Where is that warm vibration that's coursing through me coming from? If this is what Gregorio can do to me with one kiss, what would it be like to…

I can't even let myself think about it. I train my eyes on the waves and switch my mind to less dangerous subjects, like…verb conjugation. Whoa, way too many provocative verbs in pretty much every language I know. How about quantum physics? That seems safe enough. Physics, the science of interactions between matter and energy…uh, probably best to stay away from that one, too…baseball. American baseball. Is there anything on this earth more dull than American baseball? No, I don't believe there is.

When I trust my legs to support me, I get up to join the others at the fire, which is now blazing. Gregorio and Plainsong are tossing logs in and poking here and there to keep the flames going.

"Hey there, girlie," Plainsong says to me. "Alright?"

"Alright," I answer.

Gregorio gives me a friendly, platonic smile, and I can see that he's going to honor our bargain. It's weird to see the ambitious company man working side by side with the free spirit. I'm surprised he hasn't thrown his suit back on. He looks surprisingly natural in his long swim trunks and tie dye t-shirt that Plainsong must have lent him. His black waves have dried into soft curls and he hasn't bothered to oil them back. They hang loosely around his handsome face. He looks a hundred years younger. I think Madagascar has been good for him. Just like it has always been good for me. The aura here is truly magical. It's like Disney World for vampires.

Pippa and Kevin join us, bringing a pile of weeds, which they toss onto the fire. Gregorio's never stayed long enough for a bonfire before.

The smoke poufs up and envelops us. We all sit lazily in the sand, except for Plainsong, who is telling us crazy stories and dancing too close to the fire. The fringes of his frayed, cut-off shorts catch on fire and he goes shrieking and diving into the sand to douse the flames. Gregorio laughs so hard, he falls back in the sand. He stays lying down and stares up at the stars. I am sitting near him with my knees pulled up. My arms are crossed and resting on my knees, and my head is resting on my arms. I'm watching Gregorio. He starts talking nonsense about constellations and astrology. I smile. I've never seen him be silly before.

He notices me watching him and says, "What?"

"Nothing," I answer. "I just like seeing you like this."

His lips spread into a goofy grin, and he says, "I like seeing you liking to see me."

I start to giggle, and I can't stop. I fall in the sand and roll to Gregorio. We are giggling together. When our jag of giggles stop, I find that my head is lying on his chest and my arm is stretched across his stomach. I recollect myself and make a move to get up, but his hand flashes to my arm and holds me there. I relax and decide to stay. He can't try anything because of the deal, and his chest makes a nice perch from which to watch the flames dance. Yellow, white, orange, red, blue all mingling together, all rising and flashing and disappearing and rising again. I watch the flames and let my mind wander. I think fantastical things.

I wonder if this is what it's like to dream.


	9. Unexpected

Chapter 9

Unexpected

I don't get to dream for long, because Gregorio and I have to catch a red-eye flight. Vampires on a red-eye. That's funny. I giggle to myself. I must still be feeling some giddy after effects of the weeds, because it's actually not that funny. Gregorio and I pull ourselves up and walk to Plainsong's hut to change our clothes. I turn a stern glare on him when he tries to follow me in.

"We're still on the island," I warn him and shut the feeble, stick door behind me.

As I throw on my classic, black sheath and smooth my hair back, I feel a bit melancholy about leaving. Even though this was a brief visit, there was something special about it. I'm not sure why, but I want to stay. Maybe it's because I don't look forward to the long, boring series of meetings that await me in Romania. Or maybe it's because I don't want to get on the plane with Gregorio. Once we're airborne, he'll say we're off the island, and he'll be back to his old tricks. Our temporary peace agreement will end. I'd like a little more peace before I go back to doing battle with him. A little more time to decompress. A little more time to forget the kiss. The damn kiss.

My hand brushes against his jacket as I zip my water-tight backpack. Hmm…our airline tickets are in there…maybe I could slip them out and take off for the airport without him while he's changing…nah, lack of a mere ticket is not going to impede a vampire as persuasive as Gregorio. He'd probably convince the flight attendant to give up her seat to him and sit on his lap the whole way. I'm sure he's done it before. I slide my hand in the pocket anyhow…a passport…now that might slow him up…maybe long enough for the plane to take off without him. I'm holding his passport, staring at it…no, I couldn't…could I?

"Time's up!" he announces and opens the door.

I whip my arm with the passport behind my back and shove it into my purse. Well, now I've done it. I hope he doesn't think to check his pockets before we leave the beach.

He doesn't.

He emerges from the hut as smooth and polished as ever. We speed in his boat around the island to the east coast and catch a cab to Antananarivo. We glide confidently through the airport like we own the place, turning heads the whole way. We don't fit in. To the humans, we must look like movie stars or supermodels or something. I'm sure they think we're famous, although they have no idea who we are. Or maybe they think we're secret service; we've both kept our sunglasses on to shield our unusual-looking eyes, which have taken on a bit of a honey color after our brief stay in paradise.

I notice that Gregorio's head occasionally flicks toward random humans as we pass them, and he tenses. He's craving their blood. Even for me, it's difficult to be among such a concentrated group of mortals. Their sumptuous scent is everywhere. It would be easy for me flip a switch in my mind and go off the wagon in a place like this. It's extra tough on Gregorio, though. This is his regular diet, and we forced him to abstain yesterday. But he's one of the most disciplined vampires I know; he'll be fine. There's no way he'd blow cover by feeding in a crowded, public place.

Gregorio hands me my ticket and we pass through security. While we're waiting in line at the baggage scan, a woman in front of us tosses her long hair to the side as she bends to grab her bag. The entire side of her neck is exposed just below Gregorio, and I can see through the tint of his glasses that his eyes are riveted on her. A vein in her neck protrudes and throbs as she lifts the bag. I hear his teeth gnash together and see his hand ball into a tight fist, crumpling his ticket. I lay a warning hand on his forearm. He rips his eyes from the woman and looks into mine. Through the screen of our sunglasses, we stare into each other's eyes. His are intense, struggling, seeking help. Mine are calm, steady, reassuring.

The woman scans her bag and disappears down the airport terminal. Gregorio relaxes. "Thank you," he tells me in a controlled voice. "No problem," I tell him, and we move on.

As we approach customs we have a new distraction, and delectable humans are all but forgotten. Gregorio begins fishing around his pocket. He searches his other pocket. He searches his pants. He looks at me with concern and maybe a bit of nausea.

"I can't find my passport," he says as he rifles through his pockets again.

"It has to be there," I say calmly.

"I _know_ it has to be here, but I'm telling you that it's not," he snaps irritably. I don't think he likes me being the one in control of myself while he falls apart. It makes him uncomfortable.

"Gregorio," I say impatiently. "Turn out your pockets."

To my surprise, he doesn't hesitate and immediately begins pulling out the whites of his pockets in the middle of the airport. He's completely disheveling himself in the middle of the airport. He must really be desperate.

I feel a little guilty, but I look at the wild flash of aggravation on Gregorio's face and know that I've taken it too far. His nerves are stretched to the point of breaking. I can't turn back. If I fess up now, he'll skin me right here in front of everybody.

"Maybe it fell out when you were stripping down on the beach," I suggest unhelpfully.

"I would've noticed," he says, putting himself back together. "Unless…" he continues, turning an accusing glare on me.

Uh oh.

"Unless one of your beloved monkeys absconded with it when we weren't looking," he spits.

Relief washes over me.

"Oh sure," I say, trying to keep my tone casual. "When all else fails, blame the monkey," I joke.

He's not amused.

"I'm gong to straighten this out," he says stiffly, making his way toward the airport offices.

I watch him walk away and call out, "Meet you on the plane."

I get through customs with no problem, and soon I'm sitting on the plane, awaiting take off. No sign of Gregorio. The plane takes off. No Gregorio. No Gregorio! I can't believe it was that easy! I feel another twinge of guilt, because he sprang for first-class tickets for both of us. That must've taken a chunk out of his budget. Ah well, at least now I can spread out amongst two, cushy, first-class seats. Better enjoy it now. He might catch up with me at the layover in Paris.

He doesn't. I'm all alone in my two-seat suite as we take off from the city of love. I did it! I think this calls for a celebratory drink. I order a Bloody Mary, get a buzz, and retch it up later in the miniscule bathroom. It was worth it.

I don't see Gregorio again until the next day when he walks into our meeting at the last minute. He's not usually the last to enter a room, and he's still wearing he same navy blue suit, so it looks like he only just arrived back in town. Poor guy.

I arrived early at the meeting and took the liberty of rearranging our name cards. I'm right next to Viktor, and Gregorio is way down at the other end of the table. There's a surprise waiting on the seat of his chair. He looks down and freezes for a moment when he sees his passport innocently lying there. Then he shoots a glare at me. I'm grinning from ear to ear. It's shocking that I haven't spontaneously combusted with my joy and excitement at having bested the formidable Gregorio. I'm positively giddy.

He's not amused.

That's okay. I'm going to make it up to him. I've decided that it's time. He's waited long enough. He's going to get more than one kiss. I'm not doing it just for him, though. I haven't been able to stop thinking about Madagascar. I want to taste him again. I want to feel that warm vibration.

I watch his mouth as he purses it and speaks at the meeting. I think about the bump of his scar moving slowly over me. He catches me looking at him a couple of times. I think he must be able to read my line of thought, because he doesn't look angry anymore. He looks intrigued and…hungry. He's driven me to distraction. I have no idea what this meeting is about. Good thing I'm not expected to present anything.

My distraction is the biggest reason that I'm going to see things through with Gregorio. I need to get him out of my mind. When the series of meetings ends, I'm going to gather all my notes and head to the peaceful serenity of Father Pawel to work on my book. I'll need to focus. So, the sooner I get Gregorio out of my brain, the sooner I can get to work.

The meeting finally ends, and I purposely take the long way out of the room, so I can walk past Gregorio. He's clarifying a few points for a moony-eyed intern.

As I pass him, I surreptitiously murmur, "Conference Room D."

I leave the room. No moony-eyed interns have any questions for me. I head directly to Conference Room D. I've verified that no one else will be using this room for the rest of the day. I close the blinds, covering the glass walls that look out into the hallway. I turn to the whiteboard on the opposite wall and get an idea. I go to the board and write, '_Welcome Back, Gregorio_' in huge letters.

As I'm writing, I hear Gregorio's deep chuckle from the doorway.

Aha – he's finally amused.

I turn and smile at him. "Welcome home, darling," I tease.

He closes the door behind him.

"You might want to lock it," I tell him.

He tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow. He reaches his hand behind him, and I hear the click of the lock. I walk slowly, seductively toward him. He watches me with one corner of his mouth drawn up. I see that hungry look in his eye.

"I am so very glad you're here," I tell him in a purr. "It will make it, oh, so much easier for me to fulfill my _obligations_. And I _do_ intend to fulfill them, Gregorio. Every last one of them."

I'm standing in front of him, and I reach my arms over his shoulders and cross my wrists behind his neck. I rise up on my toes and press my mouth to his. He leans into me, and I feel his hands at my waist. I pull him tighter. One of my elbows slips all the way up to the back of his neck so that I practically have him in a stranglehold.

His lips stay firmly pressed together even after I've tried coaxing them open with mine. His hands move to my shoulders and push me off of him. My fingers grasp onto his neck, and I look at him with half-closed, disoriented eyes.

"I can't do this," he says.

"Oh, give yourself some credit. Sure you can," I say lightly and reach my mouth back up to kiss him again. He presses down on my shoulders and keeps me where I am.

"I can't," he repeats harshly.

I open my eyes all the way and take a good look at him. He doesn't seem angry, but something's not right about him. He looks…I don't know…tortured. He gives my shoulders a jerk, and my hands fall off of him. He steps away from me.

I'm putting the pieces together – he's tortured by kissing me. He wants to get away from me. With a sinking feeling, I understand that I've read Gregorio all wrong. Apparently, one kiss was all he'd wanted. Now he's done with me. I am mortified. I have just wholeheartedly thrown myself at a man who doesn't want me. There has to be some way for me to smart ass my way out of this, but I don't see how. I can't even think clearly right now. Gregorio must be able to read the humiliation splattered across my face. He saves me and speaks in a deadly serious voice.

"It's not that I wouldn't enjoy those long legs wrapped around me and that sharp tongue down my throat – indeed, it's what dreams are made of – but I want more than that, Elisabeta. The stakes are higher. I'm holding out for so much more."

I'm gratified that he doesn't find me repulsive, but I'm a bit frightened about what he might mean by 'so much more.'

"I'm afraid that's all that's on the table – or surface of your choice – Gregorio. There's nothing else," I tell him.

He gives me a small smile and says, "I'm a patient man, Elisabeta. I can wait for what I really want."

He stands perfectly still and gazes at me. It's not an expectant look; it's just a gaze, a gaze without a time limit, like he could stand there forever, _gazing_ at me. It's weird, and it's making me very uncomfortable.

"Care to explain to me exactly what it is you want, Gregorio?" I ask.

He seems to pull up straighter, almost steeling himself for something. Then his deep, clear voice tells me, "I want you, Elisabeta. I want _you_. And not just your long legs and forced kisses. I want all of you – body, mind, and soul."

He takes a step closer to me and continues speaking, moving closer with every word. "I want you to think about me night and day, the way I think about you. I want you to anticipate my presence around every corner. When I walk into a room, I want the floor to fall out from underneath you. And when I leave, I want all light to go out for you. I want your world to go dark, deprived of all its joy and purpose. In other words, Elisabeta, I want you to ache for me the way that I ache for you."

He's now directly in front of me, but somehow he keeps moving in, impossibly molding himself to me without touching me. His voice grows huskier as he speaks. "When this happens, as I must believe it will, take care, because I will know it in a look, and I will not be able to stop myself. I will take you up, and we will disappear, and we will not resurface until we know every inch of each other. I will only think of Elisabeta. I will only see, taste, smell Elisabeta." His mouth is at my ear whispering, deep and sultry, "On my lips, the only word will be Elisabeta, Elisabeta, Elisabeta."

I'm frozen by his words. This is all rather…unexpected, to put it mildly. I gain some semblance of control and pull slightly away. I turn to look at him, expecting his cocky smirk. There's no smirk. As a matter of fact, he seems slightly stunned by his own words. He's wearing a blank expression and is staring forward. It reminds me of how he looked after the werewolf. It appears Gregorio has outdone even himself this time.

I have to say something. And I do, but my response is astoundingly anticlimactic after all of Gregorio's pretty words.

"You're so full of crap, Gregorio," I say, taking two full steps away from him.

He can't mean it. He can't possibly mean it. I'd been a little to easy to win over physically, so now he's upped the ante, made the challenge a little tougher for himself, kept the game interesting. Gugh! I am such and idiot. Would it have killed me to play hard-to-get a little longer?

Gregorio's delicious mouth twists into a small, tight smile. Or is it a grimace? Who the hell knows anymore?

"You don't know how much I wish that were true, my dear," he says a bit sadly. "No, Elisabeta, I am sincerely sorry to say that I am, indeed, your slave. Yours to torture as you see fit."

I scoff. It's impossible to imagine the stalwart Gregorio as beholden to anyone, least of all me. It's part of his game. I'm not playing. His eyes sharpen, and he examines me.

"Is it really so difficult for you to believe that you could incite such feelings in someone? Don't you know what a remarkable woman you are?" he asks.

He's really quite good at this, isn't he? That's okay; I'm better.

"Save it for the interns, Gregorio. Until I get a lobotomy, your schemes are not going to work on me. And on the remote chance that you're being sincere – I'd need two lobotomies before I'd ever succumb."

I see something of the old Gregorio slip back into his chiseled features via a sly look. "Ah, but then you would destroy the Elisabeta that has captured me. As I told you, it is the whole package that I am after. No, we're going to have to find a way to bring _this_ mind around," he says.

His earlier sadness, torture, whatever seems to have been replaced by determination, a mood much more suited to him. He starts moving toward the door with his confident swagger.

"I think…I think I shall go write you a sonnet and see what good that might do," he tells me on his way out the door.

I bust out a laugh. Gregorio writing poetry is more ridiculous than him as a slave.

He stops and flashes me a smile. "It all starts with a laugh," he says. "It all starts with a laugh." He turns and is gone.

Knowing that Gregorio is full of shit doesn't stop me from thinking about what he said. Whatever else I've become over the centuries, I'm still a woman. That's what he's banking on. He thinks that my lesser instincts will kick in and my vanity will lead me to give his flattering words more credence than they deserve. They certainly were flattering words, weren't they? Especially coming from a man like Gregorio……oh, stop it! He's full of shit, and we all know it. He's not going to win this one.

I successfully avoid him during the next couple of days. But after my last meeting, an intra-unit briefing, I see him in the hallway. I have to walk right past him to get to the elevator. No problem. He's talking to Martina, right in the middle of the hall, about twenty feet from the elevator. No problem. As I walk past, neither of them so much as tilts their head in my direction. Martina giggles. Gregorio gives her a sensual chuckle. I feel the low boil of jealousy in my stomach. Aha! That's what he wants. It's no coincidence that he's standing right outside the door of the room in which _I_ have a meeting, talking to Martina, the closest thing that _I_ have to a rival. Oh, he's good at this. He's very, very good.

I keep walking to the elevator and don't flinch. I'll just ignore them. That'll show him. Or maybe…maybe when I step on the elevator I can turn and give him a look. Give him a look that says, '_I know what you're up to, and I simply don't care._' Ooh, yes! That is good. That'll be much better. I know he'll look at me, so it's just a matter of timing.

The elevator door opens. I step in and press my floor. I set my mouth in an appropriately nonchalant smirk and look toward Gregorio. _C'mon Gregorio, you know you want to look at me._ Wait, maybe just one corner of my mouth drawn up in the smirk. Yes. Oh, and I'll cock that eyebrow. Yeah, this is perfect! _C'mon Gregorio_. The doors start sliding shut, and he looks over Martina's head, straight at me.

He's twenty feet away, but I can see that his eyes are smoldering. They're like two, warm coals in the fire, and I can feel them on me. I know they're going got hurt me, but I want to touch them. I want to knock that bitch Martina out of the way and touch them. The doors slide shut, and I can see my fuzzy reflection in the buffed silver on the inside of the doors. There's nothing left of my carefully constructed smirk. My eyes are big and round, and my mouth is slack and gaping open.

Damnit, he's good at this! Whereas I, on the other hand, totally suck.


	10. House of Freaks

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

House of Freaks

I gather my boxes of research notes and leave Romania the day after the meetings end. I go to Father Pawel's monastery, and his monk buddies set me up in a cool, stone room equipped with a large, wooden desk and little else. The room has an open, arched window that looks out on rolling, green hills spotted with squat trees. The hills glitter with bees. I spend most of my first few days looking out the window, sorting my thoughts.

I think very little about Gregorio. There's no point. I have clearance to be away from headquarters for several months to work on my book. He won't find me here. While I'm away, I assume that his resolve will weaken in his power play for my mind and soul. Then I'll waltz back into headquarters, get him to kiss me, and bada-bing bada-boom, I'll win. Until then, I've compartmentalized him in a remote recess of my brain.

I'm thinking about how to proceed with my book. I have to strike a very delicate balance. On the one hand, I need the book to present the vegan lifestyle in the best possible light in order to encourage the average vampire to give it a whirl. On the other hand, I need the book to pass B.I.T.E. inspection as nothing more than an informative, historical study of an alternative lifestyle. How to accomplish both?

After days of thought and no clear answers, I set to work. As I begin to write, I can't help but feel the guiding force that is so strong here among these men of God. I put the outline together fairly quickly. It will be in the actual text that I imbed the persuasive elements. I'll start out with the history. I think most vampires will be surprised to find that going all the way back to the days of Romanian supremacy, a large number of our kind has laid of humans for at least some portion of their lives.

Next I'll get into the reasons for choosing the lifestyle. I think I'll publish transcripts of the actual interviews here. That way it will be their words, not mine. It'll come off as more objective. Then I'll get into the 'how' – what they eat, how often, the best places to find big game, the most satisfying beasts, how to interact with humans without killing them, things like that. It'll basically be '_Abstaining from Human Hemoglobin for Dummies_.'(1)

I develop a more detailed outline and find that I have holes, gaps in information. I leave Pawel for a few days here and there to gather information and fill in the gaps, but I am basically living here at the monastery. Father seems to like it. I take frequent breaks from my writing during the day when he's awake. His joints are weak, and he tires easily, so our walks are pretty much limited to a few circuits around the fountain in the courtyard. We sit more than we used to, and Father Pawel repeats the same old stories more and more frequently, but I don't mind. I like to hear the soft patter of his Polish words, and I like to watch his eyes light up when he gets to the good parts.

One day, I take him outside the wall of the monastery and have him climb on my back when no one is looking. We take off into the hills and have an old-fashioned picnic. He enjoys the change of scenery, but the rush of the trip there and back leaves him shaken and trembling, so we don't do that again.

When I'm confident that the book will come together, I call Carlisle and ask him if he'll review the draft when it's completed. He agrees to do it. He's very supportive of the whole project, but he seems distracted. I can tell something big is going on with him, but he doesn't elaborate. I haven't heard any reports on Edward's new bride – dead, transformed or otherwise, but I'm guessing Carlisle's distraction has something to do with that. I don't push him for details. He's agreed to help me; that's all I need to know.

During this time, the view outside my workroom changes to crunchy, brown fields and then to snowy hills peppered with bunny tracks. The hills change again and are now covered in bright green blankets and dotted with tiny purple flowers. My first draft is complete. I'm ready to show it to Carlisle.

He knows I'm coming, but I'm a little reluctant to face him. Even though I've been hermitted away here in Poland for the last several months, I've managed to keep somewhat up to speed on what's going on in the rest of the world. When I called to check in at the home office recently, everyone was in a hullabaloo, because Vladimir and Steffen had disappeared. The rumor was that something big was going on at the Cullens' involving the Volturi. That's not usually good. Given the Ancients' obsession with the Italian organization, we assumed that's where the two of them had disappeared to.

Vladimir and Steffen eventually came back, giddier than anyone had seen them in centuries. One of the vampires at headquarters pretended to be a curious tourist, and the two Ancients spilled their guts. They told the following story: Edward hadn't killed his bride, but he'd apparently done plenty of other things to her, because she'd gotten pregnant and given birth to his spawn while she was still human. The Cullens transformed her into a vampire after the birth. The Volturi had taken issue with the Cullens breeding a half-vampire and went to destroy it. But as Vladimir and Steffen reported, what had been built up as the fight of the millennium turned out to be nothing more than a discussion. A very long discussion. The Volturi had retreated from the fight.

I'm hoping Carlisle doesn't hold it against me that I didn't come to help. I think he'll understand. I did consider going. I mean, if I'd lost the Cullens, I'd have lost my primary resources. But standing against the Volturi would have been a dumb-ass move on my part. It would've jeopardized my standing in B.I.T.E., and I couldn't risk it. I think Carlisle will understand.

I purposely rent another minivan in Washington. It's going to be my thing from now on. I'm trying to be friends this time, so I come dressed casually – tight jeans with holes in just the right places and a form-fitting, black, ribbed turtleneck sweater. I'm keeping my height advantage with four inch heels on my awesome, biker-chick boots. I've let my hair grow out during my months with Pawel. Actually, I've gotten hair extensions - since vampire bodies don't change, our hair doesn't grow; I hadn't really thought that one all the way through when I'd initially chopped my hair off. I wear my new, long, straight hair pulled back into a smooth, simple ponytail. I go easy on the eyeliner and top off the whole ensemble with giant, silver, hoop earrings.

The front door opens before I even reach it, and I'm greeted by Esme. She's meeting me head on. Impressive.

"Yo, Esme. What's up?" I say.

"Quite a bit since we've last seen you," she says in a pleasant enough tone.

"So I hear," I respond in an equally friendly voice.

I think we might actually braid each other's hair later. Good thing I _grew_ mine out.

She ushers me into the house where Carlisle, Emmett, and Rosalie are waiting. I'm going to do Emmett's interview while I'm here today. He looks excited. Rosalie doesn't.

"Carlisle, thank you so much for agreeing to look over the book. It's an enormous help. I know you've had a lot going on, and I appreciate you so generously offering your time," I say. See, I know how to kiss up when I need to.

"Nonsense," Carlisle says kindly. "You're the one we should all be thanking. The cause is a good one, one we will all be proud to be a part of. I've talked with Tanya and the others in Alaska, and they want to be just as much a part of this as the rest of us."

Tanya is with a coven of vegetarian vampires in Alaska. I've visited them in the course of my research, but haven't made it up there in over a year. They are close with Carlisle's family, and I'm grateful that he's kept them up to speed. I'm about to inquire about how the Alaskans are doing – one of their members was tragically the only casualty in the incident with the Volturi - when Edward walks in with a female vampire whom I've never seen before. She's clutching a small, babyish-looking thing.

"Elie, we'd like you to meet the newest members of our family," Carlisle says. "Edward…"

I look toward the female. Her dark hair is long and flowing, and she's way overdressed for the occasion. Typical American newbie. She's eyeing me warily. I can only imagine what she's heard about me.

"Elie, this is my wife, Bella," Edward says proudly.

"Nice to meet you, Newbie," I say and shake the hand she frees from what she's holding.

"And this is our daughter, Renesmee," he says and indicates the baby thing. It's small like a baby but not as chubby, and it doesn't have a huge, baby head – it's proportioned more like an adult. It's actually kind of creepy. The creepy quotient is taken up several notches when the thing speaks.

"Pleased to meet you," the baby says in a crystal clear voice.

"Holy shit!" I yell.

The mother laughs with pride and then says, "Please watch your language around her. She picks up everything."

"That is so not natural," I say, eying the baby suspiciously.

"Yes, she's very special," Edward says, rubbing a fond hand over his daughter's freakishly small head.

"Elie," Carlisle says, a note of gravity in his voice. "We could have used _your_ help, recently."

"I know, Carlisle," I say with apology ringing through my words. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here. I sincerely considered coming when I heard you were in trouble, but it wasn't possible. If I came, it would have exposed our deeper relationship, and our project would have died before it even started. Not to mention the rift it would have caused between B.I.T.E. and the Volturi. It's bad enough that Vladimir and Steffen were here. I would have been expelled, and we'd have lost everything."

Carlisle nods his head. He can't argue with me. The time seems ripe for a little more sucking up.

"You hardly needed me, though," I say admiringly. "I hear you scared the Volturi so much that they decided not to even fight."

"We had the help of very many friends, yes," Carlisle says with great warmth and gratitude.

"Well, it was really Bella here that did the trick," Edward says.

Emmett and Rosalie groan slightly, and even Carlisle sounds a little impatient when he interjects.

"Now, Edward, we can talk about that later. We have other things to discuss," Carlisle says.

"Oh come on, we have to wait for Jazz anyhow," Edward says.

"Jazz? Who's Jazz?" I ask.

"It's our nickname for Jasper," Edward says.

"I've never heard anyone call him that before," I say.

"It's new," Edward explains.

I see my golden opportunity to change the subject. I've already heard about his wife's brain bubbles that blocked the Volturi's gifts. The story was mind-numbingly boring the first time I heard it, and I don't want to have to sit through it again.

"Oh, well, if we're handing out new nicknames, I'm giving up on Eddie; it never really stuck," I say. "So let's leave off the Ed and I'll call you…Ward. Yep. I'm going to call you Ward."

He rolls his eyes, and I call him Ward for the rest of my visit. I work it into every possible sentence.

"So, Ward, how do you like married life?" I ask.

"It's wonderful," he says dreamily, gazing down at his wife. She looks up at him with the same brainless, adoring expression that the interns are always lavishing on Gregorio.

"How about you, Newbie?" I say. "How is Ward treating you? Was he a little hard on the Beaver last night?"

Emmett belts out a huge laugh from across the room. It shakes the house. He and I are drawn to each other magnetically for a high five.

The newbie is shooting daggers at Emmett with her red eyes.

"Hey, _she_ said it, not me," Emmett says defensively. It doesn't help his case that he's trying unsuccessfully to stop laughing as he says it.

Newbie is not happy.

"Sorry," I say. "Reference lost on younger viewer. It's from an old TV. show – Leave it to Beaver. Ever see it?"

She stares angrily at me; a soft growl rumbles in her throat.

"It was a pretty good show," I say lightly.

Jasper and Alice walk in.

"Elie!" Alice calls and runs to me for a hug.

Jasper looks around, checking out the mood of the room and says, "Minimal damage. Good job, Elie."

"Thanks," I beam proudly.

Jasper stands near the newbie, calming her, and says, "Don't worry; you'll get used to her. She kind of grows on you after a while."

"Like a fungus," I hear Rosalie mutter under her breath. Good one, Blondie.

"Well, we're all here," Carlisle says. "But before we get started on the project, we'd like to tap your knowledge of vampire history, Elie, if we may."

"Of course," I say. "What do you want to know?"

"As you've no doubt guessed, Bella here is a newborn. What you may not have noticed yet, since we're all vampires, is that she exhibits remarkable self control. She's been able to resist the scent of humans since her first hunt. She's been placed in the most tempting of situations, and she's always been able to resist."

"That baby's half human – does it have human blood?" I inquire.

Carlisle nods and says, "Isn't it amazing?"

"Yeah, she should've ripped that thing's head off by now," I say. Newbie flinches. I could probably be more gentle in my word choice.

"I was wondering if, perhaps, there is anything in your archives that may give us some insight into her special talent. Have you ever read about any cases like hers?" Carlisle asks.

I think for a minute. "Yes, there's a document in the archives titled, '_What to Expect When You're Expecting a New Blood Drinker_.'(2) There's a section in there about anomalies. I only skimmed through it, but from what I read, there are definitely not-so-pleasant consequences to skipping over the normal developmental patterns. I mean, you can never expect the path to simply be that smooth, right?"

"What do you mean by 'no-so-pleasant,'" Edward asks nervously.

"Well, most similar anomalies ended up going through sort of a mid-life crisis at some point. They hit their wild streak late." I nod toward the newbie and say, "You'd better keep an eye on her."

"Oh, I am," Jasper says quickly, his sharp eyes intently focused on her. He's the only one who doesn't seem disturbed by what I'm telling them.

Newbie's irritated. "Look, I know why you're here," she blurts and takes a threatening step toward me. "You want _my_ family to put itself on the line for _your_ little project. Well, I'm completely against it! We've been through so much, and Renesmee is already a person of interest to the Volturi, so I don't see why we should risk exposing her more. Why can't you just leave us alone and let me be happy?"

I look toward Jasper and Carlisle and say calmly, "Could someone please explain to Princess Newbie that she is _not_, in fact, the axis around which the earth rotates?"

Newbie opens her mouth and huffs.

"Bella," Carlisle says, "It's true that the family has spent the bulk of its time and energy defending your personal interests these last couple of years. We'll never regret doing that, but I'm sure you'll agree that it's time now to turn our focus toward the needs of the wider world."

Newbie snaps her mouth shut and looks to Edward, whose eyes are conveniently trained on the floor. She looks a bit chagrined and mumbles, "Well, maybe if she understood what we've been through."

The baby suddenly reaches a hand out to my head. I recoil so instinctively that I'm at the top of the long staircase without even meaning to go there. I'm holding an arm out protectively in front of me.

"I…I…uh, look…just…just don't touch me, okay?" I stammer.

"She won't hurt you," Edward is quick to say. "She just wants to show you something"

"Well, what is it, Ward?" I ask, keeping my safe distance.

"She can show you her memories," Edward says excitedly. His paternal pride glows in his eyes. I'm having trouble being able to think of him as a prick now that he's such a proud papa. "It's like a movie playing in your head," he explains.

"It's pretty cool," Emmett says encouragingly.

"Oh, like home movies of somebody else's family," I say, cautiously coming down the stairs. "I can't imagine anything more exciting." I can't imagine anything more excruciating. "I'll take a pass," I tell him.

An overgrown boy bounds into the room. He's huge, all brawny muscle with thick, black, scruffy hair and deep, chocolate brown eyes.

"Speaking of family…" Emmett says with the hint of a chuckle in his voice.

The new boy smells like a dung heap covered with rancid vinegar. He smells like…my defensive reflexes immediately kick in. I'm crouched with my fingers splayed like claws. My low hiss fills the room. The boy transforms right in front of me into an enormous wolf. He's not like European werewolves, though. He looks more like a classic wolf, but huge. His fur looks fluffy, and he's actually kind of cute, except for the sharp teeth that are exposed right now by his vicious snarl.

"Elie! Jacob!" Carlisle calls out. "Calm down. We're all friends here."

Friends! With a fricking werewolf? I don't think so. I'm not backing down. Neither is the wolf.

"Jacob, stop. Elie funny," the baby says.

To my amazement, the wolf backs down. He doesn't transform, but he's no longer growling at me, and he sits docilely next to the newbie. The baby reaches out and pets the wolf.

I turn to Carlisle with angry perplexity. What the hell is going on here?

"Jacob is a special friend of the family," Carlisle explains.

"You _named_ it?" I exclaim with disbelief.

"Jacob _is_ family," Newbie says defiantly.

"Yes, Jacob is family," Carlisle corrects himself without further explanation. I decide not to push him for information. The wolf is not going to eat me; that's all I need to know.

"I've got to hand it to you, Carlisle," I say, fighting to keep my voice calm. "You've really assembled yourself quite the house of freaks here. If you're ever interested in relieving yourself of them, I'm sure B.I.T.E. would be interested in purchasing the whole lot of them. Yes, I think a zoo would fit in quite nicely with the museum."

The baby smiles. She seems to like the idea of a zoo. She reaches out for my head again. I've only jumped back about five feet this time, but I'm completely unnerved. I fling my arm out and point directly at the kid with my eyes blazing on her.

"Don't fricking touch me!" I shout.

Even to me, my tone seems a bit harsh for a baby. Her face crumples and she begins sobbing loudly into her mother's shoulder. The newbie glares at me, and the wolf bares his teeth again and growls, stalking slowly toward me. I turn to him.

"The last wolf that messed with me is dead now, got it?" I seethe. "Back off."

"Alright, everybody, calm down," Carlisle says soothingly.

Jasper is working furiously. The newbie stomps out the door with the baby when she sees that Carlisle is not going to yell at me.

The wolf follows them, but Edward stays. He's glaring at me.

"Look, Ward, there's really not a polite way to say this," I tell him, "So I'm just going to come out and say it – your baby totally creeps me out. So, if you could just ask little Rheumatism not to touch me, in return, I will try my best not to shout at it anymore."

"Her name is Renesmee, and you're going to have to do better than try," he says. "One more incident like that, and you won't be invited back here."

"Fair enough," I say, holding off on any more comments about the name. Ugh, the name.

He gives me one last warning glance and then goes out the door after his new family.

"Shall we get to this?" I say to Carlisle, who readily agrees.

I give Carlisle my manuscript. While he reads it, Emmett and I head up to Carlisle's office for the interview. Rosalie follows us up the stairs and doesn't try to hide the fact that she'll be right outside the door the whole time.

"I've obviously already written up all of my research in the manuscript that Carlisle is reviewing, but I can easily edit in anything new that comes up here," I tell Emmett right before I sit down in the power seat.

Like Jasper, Emmett takes the seat across the desk. I first clarify details of Emmett's history and get a little background on his hunting style. Then I flat out ask, "Emmett, why don't you hunt humans?"

"Because I love her," he answers simply.

"Yes, that's why you started, but why do you continue? Over the years, you must have come around to believing that it's the right thing to do."

"Nah. I don't see it as right or wrong. It's how we're wired; it's just instinct. It's no different than bears mauling humans who get to close to their babies. It's what vampires do."

"So you don't have any reason for avoiding humans other than Rosalie? Only for Rosalie?"

"Yeah," he shrugs. "I love her."

"Couldn't you still love her and eat humans?" I ask.

"I've messed up plenty of times, if that's what you mean."

"No, I mean, it doesn't seem fair that you've had to change your lifestyle for her when she hasn't done the same for you. Why don't you demand that she _start_ eating humans?"

"That'd kinda wreck your cause, wouldn't it?" he says, completely missing my point.

"I'm speaking hypothetically," I tell him. I hope he understands the word 'hypothetically.'

"Hypothetically, I'd never ask her to change. I love her exactly as she is."

"Plus she's standing right outside the door listening and would pounce on you if you give a different answer," I say.

"True. But it's still an honest answer."

"So, earning Rosalie's love is a powerful enough incentive to keep you clean. The thought of losing her gives you the strength to live this way."

"I don't live this way to _make_ Rosalie love me. I live this way _because_ she loves me. I know that I wouldn't lose her just because I changed my eating habits, but I also know that this is important to her; it's a huge part of who she is. It makes me happy to please her, so I guess I do it as much for me as for her. I like to make her happy."

"I think it's a good thing your interview is not in the book. Nobody'd believe it.," I tell him.

"Do you believe it?" he asks.

I think for a second. "Yeah, I guess I do. But I don't understand it."

I don't understand it. I'm sure this kind of devotion is a very rare thing. I wonder what it feels like to have someone love you at that level.

"Wait a minute," I say. "If you are so besotted with Rosalie, why are you always making eyes at me?"

"No way," he says, getting defensive. "You're the one who always toys with me, and I'm just a man _reacting as any man would react_," he says, looking at the door. I think he's speaking more to Rosalie beyond the door than to me. "_Nothing_ has ever happened and nothing _ever will happen_." He's still looking at the door.

"Really," I say, seeing a chance to have some fun. I kick my legs up onto the desk and stretch them out, crossing my kick-ass boots at the ankles. There's a fortunate tear in my jeans along my thigh that highlights a tantalizing muscle. I chew suggestively on my pencil and give Emmett the eyes.

He senses my change in demeanor and slowly turns toward me. I can't say anything, because Rosalie will hear, so I give him a hard look and lower my gaze to the desk and then back up to him. The look very clearly says, '_Wanna go for it right here?_'

Emmett stares at me. He's temporarily frozen. Then he shouts, "No way!" and pushes himself away from the desk so forcefully that I'm nearly knocked off balance. He gets up and walks across the room, away from me.

"I love her. I love her more than anything. Hurting her would be the stupidest thing I could ever do," he says emphatically.

"Relax," I say. "I was only testing you. You pass. What you and Rosalie have is pretty cool," I tell him. "It's definitely worth protecting no matter what."

But I still don't understand it. How could someone give themselves up for someone else so completely? And how could someone expect someone else to do that for them?

"Thanks," Emmett says, sounding more relaxed.

"Yep," I nod. "Well, I think we're done here. Thanks for your time," I say sincerely.

"Sure," Emmett shrugs, heading to the door. Just before he opens it, he turns to me and says, "This was fun, Elie."

"Yeah, it was," I admit.

I head out the door after giving Emmett and Rosalie a moment to embrace and disappear down the hall. Emmett definitely scored some points with her during the interview. I go downstairs where Carlisle has my pages spread out on the dining room table and is busy making notes. Edward is back. I see that Carlisle has been getting his, Jasper's and Alice's input. The five of us sit down together for a couple of hours, and I feel great about what we accomplish.

It's almost time for me to leave for my flight, so I start organizing my papers. While I'm scooping them into my bag, I comment, "So, Ward, you've been calling me Elie this whole time. What up?"

Edward presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows in a knowing look. "I see that someone else in your life has dibs on Elisabeta," he says.

I realize that he's talking about Gregorio. When I opened up a new part of my mind to him, I opened up a whole lot more than I bargained on. Edward has been polite enough not to use it against me and only brings it up now because I asked. I still don't like it.

"Nobody has dibs on me," I make very clear.

"Okay," Edward says in a skeptical way that is definitely _not_ okay.

I drop it. So does he.

I make a quick plan with the Cullens to meet up in Alaska in a few weeks. By then I should have the book published, and we can make concrete plans on how to proceed. I quickly fly out of the house so I don't miss my flight. No one seems terribly sad to see me go.


	11. Chapter One

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Chapter One

On the flight home, I start making the Cullen edits on my laptop. I get back to my rooms at headquarters and work through the night to finish up. In the morning, I print out a fresh copy. As you can imagine, tight controls are placed on the publication of written works about vampires. We can't risk letting this information fall into the hands of humans. Although, the few times that it has happened, the mortals have merely interpreted the documents as works of fiction. We all laughed as we watched the _novels_ rise to the top of the humans' best sellers lists. No harm done, really, but if this type of thing happened too often, the mortals might become suspicious.

To maintain control, B.I.T.E. has its own editing office and printing press in the basement. I'll be taking my manuscript down there, but first I have another stop to make. I'm going to pop in unexpectedly on Gregorio. I want to keep the element of surprise on my side this time. I'm trying to improve my odds by wearing a short-skirted, black, two-piece suit and a crisp, white, button-down blouse with a generous dose of closures left undone. My hair is up in an intentionally messy twist, and I'm wearing a pair of thick-rimmed, cat's-eye glasses that I picked up in an airport drugstore. My eyes adjust easily to the mild prescription, and I am the naughty librarian extraordinaire.

I walk into his office without knocking. He does a double take. It's been many months since we've seen each other. He looks good. Damnit.

His face lights up in a smile, and he says, "Nice glasses."

"Thank you," I say, shutting the door behind me and setting my briefcase on a small table next to the door. "I've finished writing my book," I tell him.

"So I've heard," he says. Of course he has.

I pull some pages out from my case and hold them tantalizingly in front of me. "This is the first chapter. Care to take a peek?"

I know he wants to read it. He's so nosy and controlling. I stay where I am so that he'll have to come to me. It works. He gets up from his chair and comes over. When he's close, I hand him the chapter and smoothly slide in next to him, folding my arm casually around his waist. The only natural place for him to put his free hand is on my back.

He reads, and I turn the pages for him, so he won't have to remove his hand from me. He doesn't seem to mind. We stand in silence, side by side, arms around each other, while he reads what I've written. I turn another page and then lean to the side and nuzzle into him. He lets me. He smells musky and vaguely spicy.

I flip another page. I turn my head slightly and press a soft kiss into the base of his throat. He tastes as good as he smells. I pull back to turn another page. He doesn't say anything. I'm encouraged.

I turn back to his neck and kiss him again. He doesn't complain.

I keep kissing up the side of his throat until I am at the square of his jaw, where I start to gently bite and lick. His head leans into me, and I can feel the low rumble of a purr building in his throat. The hand on my back stiffens and pulls me closer. Looks like I've won. I'll be sucking on his tongue any moment now.

He must have set down the chapter, because about a minute into my seduction, his fingers grip my jaw, and he pulls slightly away from my mouth. He holds me close and turns his face toward mine. Keeping his grasp on my jaw, he pulls my glasses down the bridge of my nose with his index finger, so that he can peer directly into my eyes. His look is curious and intent. The soft black of his irises penetrate me; he's trying to read me. I make no effort to disguise my raw desire.

"Hm," he says crisply. He's made his assessment. "Not quite there yet, are we? But I see we've made progress." He releases me and steps away.

Huh?

"Don't worry; we'll get there" he tells me as he walks over to my bag and pulls out the rest of the manuscript. "In the meantime, I'll have this to occupy me," he says with a wink, indicating the papers.

He takes my manuscript and opens the door.

"Gregorio!" I say sternly, finding my voice. "I need that."

"Oh, you'll get it back," he says calmly. "_With_ my invaluable notations and insights," he adds arrogantly. Then he disappears out the door.

Foiled again.

I do get the manuscript back a few days later – with red marks all over it. His suggestions are good. I'll probably use them. They'll probably make the book better. Damnit.

He's also attached a note:

'_This is excellent work. I see you haven't spent all of your time having bonfires with the monkeys. I'll be gone for two weeks. I'm taking a first hand look at the discoveries in Siberia. I look forward to making more progress with you when I return_.'

Poor Gregorio. Still holding out. He doesn't realize that I've already made as much progress as I ever will with him. Even if I were disposed to wanting to love him, I couldn't. My ability to care for anyone romantically died with Kristoph. And whatever else remains of my figurative heart belongs to Father Pawel. There's nothing left for anyone else.

I suddenly realize that I've made a mental switch regarding Gregorio. I'm no longer denying the possibility that he might actually have feelings for me. But it'll do him no good; I simply can't love him that way. I sigh. I don't like having this new sympathetic attitute toward Gregorio. I want to go back to heartlessly teasing him and plotting his demise. Why did adult sentiments have to enter into this and ruin everything?

I incorporate Gregorio's notes into yet another draft of my book and take it down to publishing. The editors polish it up, and then it's time for production. I'm only allowed a few copies - two for the archives, one for me, and a couple extras that I specially requested to give to my research subjects. I work directly with the lad in charge of printing. Emil's a nice kid, only about seventy years old. He was recruited because of his skills with the press. I admire his nimbleness with the machinery, and he admires my knowledge of the world and my long legs. We get along just fine. I spend a lot of time with him in the basement, watching him work and telling him about the big world, and I walk away with about twenty extra copies of the book that Emil assures me won't show up on any records.

Gregorio's return from Siberia is delayed. There's a lot for him to do there. Siberia is the sight of a major archeological discovery of vampiric history. A couple of nomads were digging through the tundra, building themselves tunnels so they could avoid the whipping winds, when they came across what appears to have been an ancient frozen village. B.I.T.E. researchers are fairly certain that the inhabitants of the village must have been vampires, because who else could have lived there? Also, several hieroglyphic-type carvings were discovered in the ice with definite vampiric indications.

There is much to be uncovered in Siberia and many questions to be answered - such as, what happened to this civilization? Are they still out there somewhere, or did they somehow meet their demise? Gregorio is assessing the scope of the work to be done and will be in charge of assembling and managing the team that will conduct the work. The project will extend far into the future.

During Gregorio's extended absence, I ship out a stack of books to Washington, Alaska and Madagascar. The Americans are expecting them, but I haven't had a chance to explain to Africa yet, so I enclose a cryptic note for them. I ask them to read the book and keep their copies somewhere safe until I can get down there to explain. I also call Alaska to confirm our meeting in a couple of weeks. Next, I start working with one of our museum scientists, Octavian, who has been analyzing the relative nutritional value of various blood types. I've encouraged him to include animal blood types in his research.

Octavian and I are creating an exhibit for the museum. We're in the large, central room of the museum, scoping out our space and brainstorming ideas for presentation, when Gregorio enters the large room. He's talking animatedly to Anton, the museum curator. We glance up at each other and then quickly away and continue in our separate conversations. I'm happy to see him. I want to run over to welcome him back and see how his trip was, but I stop myself. I don't want to give him the wrong impression or false hope.

When I get a chance, I glance over at him again. Anton is speaking now and his arms sweep in wide gestures. He's probably talking about adding a whole new wing to the museum to house the Siberian discoveries. Gregorio appears to be only half listening to him, because he's looking intently in my direction. As soon as my eyes catch on his, he locks onto me. His penetrating gaze is searching me again. Searching for something that isn't there. My eyes immediately soften, and my face pinches in an unintentional look of pity. Gregorio looks quickly away.

He doesn't look back at me the rest of the time we're there. I rush my conversation with Octavian, so I can go to Gregorio and smooth things over. But before I can wrap things up, he's already gone. I go to his office. He isn't there. I walk down the corridor, peeking into conference rooms. He isn't in any of them. I knock softly on the door to his rooms. No answer. He isn't anywhere.

I start to feel annoyed with him. Is this part of his game? He thinks he'll disappear and suddenly I'll come around? I'm not playing any more. I'll have to make that clear to him. Or does he already know, and now he's mad at me? That would be so unfair. He can't expect me to fall for him just because he's been stupid enough to fall for me. I'll make sure he knows that too. Why is he doing this? Why can't we just go back to the way things were before? Before Madagascar.

That evening, there is a knock at my door. It's Gregorio. I open the door to let him in. I'm ready to spar, but his drawn features look so sad. So, so sad. Even his slow, reluctant step is sad. He doesn't look at me as he walks in the room. Now I know things have changed between us, because I no longer have the slightest urge to tease or torture him. I only want to make him smile, but I don't know how. I don't know how to make Gregorio smile any more.

He finally looks at me, and says gravely, "I told you I was a patient man, Elisabeta, and that is true. But I'm not an idiot, and I'm not a masochist. I can see that your feelings have not progressed and are not likely to progress in the future." His voice falls off and he just stands there.

I break the silence. "So, I win?" I ask tentatively, hoping we can reduce ourselves to the old, familiar teasing. Hoping he might smile, just a little.

His mouth tightens and turns up at the corners, but I wouldn't call it a smile. Smiles aren't usually accompanied by such palpable misery.

"You win," he says flatly.

I start to raise my arms in a big V for victory, but I don't feel like celebrating, so I pull them back. Maybe we can get back to normal in a few days. I try to hint at this verbally, but Gregorio cuts me off with a determined shake of his head.

"No," he says firmly. "There's no going back. I know what I want. I've seen it too clearly. You'll always be more to me than I am to you." He sighs and says, "I'm not a strong enough man to deal with that day after day."

Something in the gravity of his voice tells me that there's a deeper meaning to what he's just said.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I _mean_ that there is much work to be done in Siberia. I was going to hand supervision off to one of my subordinates, but I've decided to take that responsibility on myself."

"What?" I gasp. "Siberia! That project is going to take decades. You're going to move to Siberia?" I know I sound desperate. I don't want him to go.

He finally flashes with an emotion other than sadness. He's angry.

"I can't stay here, Elisabeta! I can't see you every day. It's like torture to me! And do I really need to point out that you forfeited any say you might have in where I go and where I live when you decided to reject me?"

He's right. He's one hundred percent right. I don't have the right to say anything. I clamp my mouth shut and try to control my emotions. I just can't imagine Gregorio being gone. I can't imagine never seeing him again. With me traveling all the time, it's not as if we were ever constant companions, but I never knew where he'd turn up, and I'd come to……anticipate him……around……every corner.

"Goodbye, Elisabeta," he says softly and walks to the door.

I can't say anything. I don't want him to go. I can't say anything. Every ounce of my undead being aches fro him to stay.

He puts his hand on the door handle and pauses. He turns his head to the side and says, "The damnable thing is, I know you have it in you, Elisabeta. It's right there. You just won't let it through."

He turns the handle and opens the door. He takes a step out the door, and the room goes dim. My light is leaving with him.

"Gregorio," I call out in a dry, cracked voice. Something has broken. Some partition that I didn't know was there has come crashing down, and I am flooded with a desperation, a longing, a _need_ for Gregorio.

He stops and turns toward me. He said he would know it in a look, and I hope he's right, because I'm not going to be able to say it out loud.

In three bounds he's across the room, and I'm swept up in his arms. I press my astonished face tightly into his strong shoulder.

His mouth is in my hair, whispering, "Really, Elisabeta? Really?"

"Really, Gregorio," I whisper back. "I love you."

He freezes and releases me. He holds both of his hands to the sides of my face and tilts my head, so I'm looking at him.

"Say it again," he says with his black eyes intent on mine.

"I love you," I tell him. I'm not whispering this time. I'm not holding back.

His red mouth spreads into a wide smile, the smile I've been looking for, and he begins kissing me all over my face. Baby kisses all over my face. At the corner of my mouth, on my cheek, on my forehead, on my nose. In between kisses, he says, "I love you…I love you…I love you…"

Our utter happiness is so ridiculous that I laugh. I laugh as he kisses me all over my face. I laugh until his mouth locks on mine, and then I wrap my arms tightly around his neck and pull myself up to him.

This kiss holds all the passion of our first kiss in Madagascar, but there's something more. This time I know that this is the only mouth I will ever kiss again. I love Gregorio. He's my perfect match. I love him. Letting myself fall into this isn't nearly as painful as I would have thought. Our happiness sweeps away all my reservations of the past months. Gregorio loves me, and I love him, love him, love him.


	12. Every Inch

Chapter 12

Every Inch

The kiss lasts forever, yet not nearly long enough. Too soon, Gregorio slackens his grip, and I slide down from him.

"Damn, damn, damn, damn," he groans.

Not exactly the response I was hoping for.

"Okay, so I'll try not to take that personally…" I say uncertainly, dropping my hands to his chest.

"No, of course it's not you. I have a damned meeting with Viktor regarding Siberia. I have to leave you, right now. Everyone will be there. I have to go."

"What? Now?" I complain in disbelief. "I thought we were going to disappear…get to know every inch of each other and all that."

Gregorio looks down at me and groans again.

His eyes flick back and forth in thought. "There's nothing for it. I have to go. But give me a few days to get things organized for the Siberian operation, and then we'll disappear."

"Really?" I ask hopefully.

"Really. Three days. I have to go," he says quickly and takes my hands from his chest and presses a soft kiss into each of my palms before releasing them. I can see that he's already preoccupied with all the work he's just cut out for himself in the next three days. He gives me a quick, firm kiss on the mouth and leaves.

The next three days are agony. I am suddenly in love, and he's all I can think about. I don't see him at all. He's working around the clock to organize everything that needs to be done for Siberia. My hair extensions drive me nuts. I tear them out.

I get a quickly scrawled note from Gregorio telling me to meet him along a road halfway down the hill outside of headquarters. I pack a few things and throw a wool cape over my simple skirt and blouse. I bought the cape as a joke – you know, vampire in a cape – but it's actually become one of my favorite pieces. It's cozy. It's kitschy. And I look adorable in it.

I grab a snack on the way down the mountain and wait for him. He pulls up in a non-descript, black sedan. I slide into the passenger seat, and he grabs my hand and holds it while he breaks speed limits through Europe. We're making our way to Amsterdam. We don't talk much during the drive. I mostly just watch him. He occasionally steals a glance at me and pulls my hand to his mouth and presses it to his lips. He runs his hand through my short hair, indicating that he approves. He smiles gently at me, but he's agitated. I can see that his mind still whirrs with the business he's hastily conducted these last few days. I don't clutter his brain with conversation.

There's something else bothering him. He has deep, dark purple circles under his eyes. He hasn't had time to eat. He's hungry.

We arrive in Amsterdam at dusk, and Gregorio rents a large speed boat at the harbor. We load our bags into it. Before we climb in, Gregorio stops me.

"This will be our last chance to have a real meal for a while. It's not very populated where we're going. Let's get something to eat in town before we leave."

"I'm okay," I say. "I ate right before you picked me up. I'll stay here with our stuff. You go ahead."

"You sure?" he asks.

"Positive."

He nods his head and then heads into town to kill somebody.

I try not to think about it.

How can I not think about it? The man I love, the man I'm prepared to spend the rest of eternity with has just stalked off into the darkening night to murder somebody.

I've got to stop being so dramatic. It's hardly murder; it's instinct, like Emmett said. Gregorio is simply doing what we vampires are built to do. I'm the one who's trying to buck nature.

If I'm going to be hanging out with Gregorio, I won't be able to hide the fact that I don't feed on humans. I don't want to hide it. I don't want to hide anything from Gregorio. I love him. I'm going to have to be careful about sharing certain information, though. Like my grand plan. The plan I've been working on since before I knew him. I've essentially been lying to Gregorio since the day I met him. He's not going to like that. He's also not going to like that I've been deceiving B.I.T.E., using them for my secret purpose. He may love me, but he is still the company's man. I have no doubt that he'll support me - I wouldn't be with him if I didn't believe that – but I'll have to ease him into it, take it slow, soften the blow.

I can't tell him everything on this trip. But maybe, if I see a good opportunity, I'll at least tell him about my diet. That's probably a good place to start.

Gregorio returns to the boat from dinner. He looks refreshed and relaxed. The purple circles are gone, and his eyes gleam. He regards me with a different kind of hunger. A more pleasant kind of hunger.

"Now, where were we before I had to take off to that blasted meeting?" he purrs, taking my arms and placing them around his neck. He wraps his arms around my waist and says in a low rumble, "I think this was about right."

He leans down and kisses me. Our mouths open, and Gregorio's breath is still heavy with his latest meal. I haven't tasted human blood for over fifty years. It's sweet and rich and smooth and absolutely divine. I taste it everywhere in his mouth. On his teeth, his tongue, the inside of his cheeks, the roof of his mouth. I am devouring him, running my tongue over every surface in his mouth. I pull him tighter. I want more, more blood, more rich, sweet divinity. I can't get enough. I want more. I pull him to me. I'm climbing onto him. I snarl. I growl.

"Whoa!" Gregorio shouts, gripping my shoulders and tearing me off of him. He holds me down and demands, "What the hell was that about, Elisabeta?"

It takes me a minute to bring my mind about to less animal-like thoughts. I'm sure my eyes are flashing. I'm not capable of telling him the truth at the moment. My mind can't even wrap around any type of comprehensible explanation. Gregorio's staring at me with defensive perplexity. I have to say something.

"I…uh…I really missed you," I offer weakly in explanation.

His eyebrows raise, and he says ironically, "I guess so." His thick eyebrows come down and he looks half overly pleased with himself and half frightened of me.

"Well, we'd better get going," he says doubtfully. He's doesn't know whether heading out alone with me in such an excited state will make for one of the best nights of his life or one of the most terrifying. Either way, it's sure to be one of the most memorable.

"Perhaps you should sit down for a while until you've calmed down," he suggests.

"Good idea," I mumble and go directly to the back of the boat, glad for a piece of solitude while he starts the engine and takes the wheel.

I am so ashamed of myself. How could I have lost control like that? If Gregorio hadn't been as strong as he is, it could have easily been another Kristoph situation. Oh, Kristoph, Kristoph, Kristoph…

This isn't going to work, is it? I'm not going to be able to be this close with a human-feeder without jumping right back into that lifestyle. I'm obviously not strong enough to deal with it. I'll be ravaging human throats and drinking them by the dozen within weeks of starting up with Gregorio. I can't do this. I can't put everything I've worked for at risk for one man. Even if I am desperately in love with him.

I look across the boat at Gregorio. He's effortlessly navigating the boat through Amsterdam's canals on our way to the North Sea. He's beautiful. I watch his chiseled, ivory profile stay completely still for a long while. He's like a perfect, Roman statue. In an Armani suit. It's strange. I don't feel sad when I look at this wonderful man that I'm going to have to give up. I feel…strong. Gregorio makes me feel strong.

I get up and walk over to him and slip under his arm as he stands at the wheel. He looks down at me with a soft smile.

"Feeling better?" he asks.

"Uh huh," I say and return his smile.

With exaggerated hesitancy, he leans down and kisses me. It's a long, slow, normal kiss during which neither one of us tries to devour the other. I can handle this. It's going to be okay. Gregorio makes me strong.

"That's more like it," he says, still teasing me about earlier.

"Gregorio," I say flirtatiously, feeling more like myself. "Is that how you got that scar? You were too delicious and a voluptuous vampiress tried to eat you?"

"No, my dear; you've been the first to try that," he chuckles.

It was a stupid thing for me to say. It makes me think of what I did to Kristoph. It hurts. I turn away from Gregorio before he can see the pain flash through my eyes. I'm standing with my back to him, watching the waves that we're now ripping through. We've reached the North Sea.

Gregorio steers with one hand and wraps his other arm all the way around my waist and holds me to him. I lean back, and we stand silently. Just like I let him be quiet in the car, he's letting me be quiet now. He makes me stronger. I feel him press a soft kiss into my hair. It's going to be okay. It has to be, because there's not a bloody fricking chance in hell that I'm walking away from him.

Now that we're in the open sea, we're cutting across the black waters at inhuman speed. I'm elated by the thrill of it. Gregorio senses my change in mood and twists the boat in a few daredevil maneuvers that make me shriek. We laugh as the salty water splatters us in the face, and we zoom on and on.

After a while, the thrill wanes and we cut an easy, straight path through the water, continuing to move at a good clip. I still stand with my back to Gregorio. I'm gripping the arm he's kept wrapped around me. There's nothing to see but choppy water with each of its tiny peaks illuminated by a crescent moon. Despite our speed, the setting is peaceful. I lean back on Gregorio and he nestles the side of his face into my hair.

"Elisabeta?" he asks. His tone is almost delicate. "When did you first start to love me?"

"Are we playing truth or dare?" I respond illusively.

"Just truth. Tell me. I want to know."

"When you told me you were moving to Siberia. I suddenly couldn't imagine my life without you," I tell him in a very straight forward, non-gushy way.

"That's when you realized it. But you must have started loving me some time before that, or you wouldn't have felt that way. When do you think it was?"

"You're awfully nosy aren't you?" I say playfully.

He bends his mouth to my ear and says in a soft, irresistible voice, "Please tell me. I want to know."

I'm not comfortable openly talking about my feelings like this. But I know how persistent Gregorio can be and realize that he's going to stay on it until he finds out what he wants to know. Still, I make one last attempt at a diversion.

"Gregorio, with all this talk of feelings, are you sure you're not a girl?"

He murmurs suggestively into my ear, "You'll know the answer to that soon enough."

The vibration of his words ripples through me, and I press back into him. He dips his face down to plant his mouth on my neck. I think my distraction tactics have worked, but he suddenly jerks his head up and says expectantly, "I'm still waiting."

"Fine," I tell him. "I would guess that I first started falling for you in Madagascar."

"The kiss," he murmurs knowingly, as if it's the answer he expected.

"Yes, the kiss. But there was more. You by the fire, so relaxed, so casual, so…natural. I liked it. I think about you like that a lot."

"Really?" he says. He didn't expect that part of the answer.

"Uh huh. Now, what about you?" I say, turning around and wrapping both of my arms around his narrow waist. "When did you start loving me? That's the great mystery."

He keeps his eyes trained on the water ahead of him, but I can see that his mind is one hundred percent on the topic at hand.

"The day we met," he says in complete seriousness.

"Come on," I say disbelievingly.

"It's true. I didn't know it yet, but I received my first clue that day."

He takes his eyes from the water and looks down at me. With the black, liquid blanket beneath us and the velvet expanse of black and silver above, Gregorio's eyes shine like onyx gems. They don't carry their usual softness and are almost fierce. The glow of the moon cuts sharp shadows below his defined cheekbones all the way to the square of his jaw. He's deadly handsome in the moonlight, but if I weren't a vampire myself, I'd be terrified of him.

"Do you remember when you asked me about my scar that day?" he asks. The roll of his deep voice is as smooth and soft as cashmere.

I nod.

"We were in the middle of a very tense moment with Viktor, and you asked me how I got my scar. I was suddenly flooded with an unreasonable thrill that you were curious about me personally. It was such a trivial thing, but I was absolutely elated by it. It didn't make any sense to me.

"Then there was the day with the werewolf. I watched you walk into the arena, and all my senses became charged with the need to save you. I snatched the gun from Felix and nearly shot the werewolf the second he looked at you, before he had even transformed. I kept control of myself until the beast slashed you. You know that Viktor stopped me from shooting him right then, but I kept the gun pointed at a spot just in front of you, waiting for the monster to cross it, so I could end him.

"But you surprised us all by lunging forward, and suddenly everything was thrown helter skelter. You were on top of him, and I couldn't get a clear shot without endangering you. I barely got off the bullet that killed him. I thought I'd been too late, that he'd bitten you. I didn't know until I walked into the arena and saw Felix holding you that you'd survived.

"The entire torturous walk down the steps, I'd thought you were dead. I couldn't imagine it. Couldn't accept it. I was a zombie. But when I saw that you were okay, I started to feel like I wanted to live again. It was then that I knew you were going to be very dangerous to me."

I'm staring up at Gregorio. I remember the scene with perfect clarity, but it all looks so different from this angle. I tell him, "You know, that would have been a very romantic story if it hadn't ended with you inappropriately offering to rub me down in ointment."

He smiles and touches his forehead on mine. "Offer's still good," he growls.

I laugh and rub my nose against his.

"So, you realized that you were madly in love with me, and it took you forty years to do anything about it? Doesn't sound like the Gregorio I know," I say.

"I wasn't a willing participant in my emotions. Note that I said _dangerous_. I stifled them and hoped that they would go away – as they usually did for me. But every time I saw you, I found something new to intrigue me, and my feelings only grew stronger. Then you started whispering in my ear. I knew you were only playing at improving your position within B.I.T.E., but I wouldn't have turned you away for the world. Thus our game of cat and mouse began. Or in our case, cat and tiger.

"I knew you wouldn't go for the foolish professions of a love-besotted fool, so I played along. You needed to come around to me on your own. I had no doubt that you would. I convinced myself that the connection was so strong that it must include both of us, that it wasn't one sided. I simply needed to give you the opportunity to recognize it. And I gave you every opportunity I could; all those random visits to you in the field--"

I gasp. "Is that what those were about," I say, smacking him in his rock hard chest. "I thought you didn't trust me."

"Well, quite frankly, I didn't, but that was only a small part of it. Mostly I just wanted to see you. Plus, I had to keep tabs on any competition for your affections. Lucky for me, you're not very affectionate," he says, earning himself another smack in the chest.

"And then there was Madagascar. Ah, Madagascar. I felt the earth shift during our kiss. You didn't expect it, and you'd inadvertently left yourself open. I felt it move in you, Elisabeta, and I knew it was only a matter of time," he says, looking wistfully down at me.

"But then we returned to Romania, and something had changed. Something somewhere inside of you closed to me, and when you kissed me again, it was completely different. It all turned physical for you; there was no more emotion. I was caught off guard by how much that hurt - to be so close to you, but to have you so far out of my reach. It was unbearable. I knew I couldn't play our games anymore. The time had come to lay it on the table. So I did. And I nearly lost you." I see a touch of sadness pull at the corners of Gregorio's eyes. "Who would have guessed that it was only when I finally gave up all hope that you'd come around."

I stare up at him and feel scared. It had come that close, hadn't it? If one tiny thing had been different – if he'd left for Siberia without saying goodbye, if I hadn't been able to croak out his name at the last second - it could all have been so different. Looking up at him now, I can't imagine ever not realizing that I loved him. I take my hands and place them on either side of his gorgeous face. I look directly into his sharp, black eyes.

"Thank God I came around, Gregorio. I will thank God _every day_ that I came around," I tell him earnestly.

We penetrate each others' eyes a little longer, and it seems I can read every one of Gregorio's thoughts. He has some very interesting thoughts. I can't stand it any longer, and I jump up onto him and kiss him. He crushes his mouth onto mine, and I feel his hand slip past me to cut the engine. He presses me up against the steering wheel and we let the boat drift aimlessly while we get to know a few more inches of each other.

We've crossed into the Atlantic, and I've taken the wheel. I gladly hand it off to Gregorio's more experienced hands when we're faced with drifting ice chunks in the water. We're approaching Greenland.

Daylight is breaking. Everything glitters. Somehow Gregorio gets the boat through the ice-infested waters and docks it into a drift that juts out into the sea. He secures the boat to the drift, and we grasp hands as he leads me up, up, up into a snow covered mountain. We don't stop until we can see nothing but the sparkling white of the snow around us. Miles and miles of pure, umblemished, crystalline snow. The sun moves higher in the sky, sending up miniature flares everywhere.

"Do you know why I brought you here instead of anywhere else in the world?" he asks me.

We are knee deep in snow. I have no idea why he chose this place. I shrug my shoulders.

"I was here once many years ago and couldn't stop thinking about you," he tells me. "Everywhere I looked was Elisabeta. It was the snow. Look at it; it's so beautiful, so perfect. The way it shimmers and shines - it's your skin. I wanted to see you here. I wanted the snow to meet its match."

"All vampire skin shimmers and shines," I say.

He touches his fingertips to my face and says gently, "Not like yours." His eyes have changed again. They are back to his soft black, but they're not bold, not confident. They seem a little timid, a little unsure.

"Elisabeta," he says hesitantly. "I want to see you…I want to see all of you…here."

His hands have moved tentatively to the button that fastens my cape. He runs his fingertips along the button but stops at that. He's waiting for my permission. I cover his fingers with mine and bend them to undo the button. He slides the cape over my shoulders and it falls to the ground. We bring our hands to my blouse and together we slowly unbutton it. Gregorio flattens his palms against my chest and drags them to my shoulders and down my arms as he slides my shirt completely from me.

He looks at my newly-bared skin against the snow, and his look is one of wonder. Before we expose any more of my skin, I reach my hands out to him, and he lets me undo his buttons. Inch by inch we bare more shimmering skin. We are standing in front of each other, and he is taking all of me in with wide eyes. His mouth hangs slightly open. He still seems to be slightly unsure of himself. It's not a look I'm used to seeing on him.

"You okay there?" I ask more lightly than I feel.

"Elisabeta," he murmurs. He speaks almost as if he's in some kind of trance. "You're so beautiful."

His eyes come to mine and pull me in like a magnet. He grasps me at my elbows and pulls me down to kneel with him in the snow. The snow covers us to our waists like a warm, fuzzy blanket. He bends his mouth to the base of my throat and sucks on me in a sensual kiss. His kiss moves steadily downward, and I sigh. I sigh as I feel what I've daydreamed about hundreds of times – the bump of Gregorio's scar moving slowly over me. He's not timid or unsure of himself anymore. I cradle him to me, gripping his soft, black waves in my fingers. His hands and his mouth and my sighs become more urgent, and we tumble into the snow.

We are covered in glittering snow, and it's impossible to know where Gregorio ends and I begin, where the endless sweep of snow starts and our writhing, milky bodies stop. The glorious, sparkling whiteness stretches on and on, forever and forever and forever.


	13. If Love Is Aces, Give Me the Jack

Chapter 13

If Love is Aces, Give Me the Jack*

* Title is a lyric from the song, 'If Love is a Red Dress,' performed by Maria McKee on the Pulp Fiction soundtrack.

By the time Gregorio and I are sensible of anything besides each other, we seem to be miles from where we started. We're completely buried in a snow drift and have to dig ourselves out. We must have caused a small-scale avalanche at some point, because we dig for a long, long time. We have to dig gingerly so we don't cause another snow slide. We look at each other and laugh as we dig. We grab each other's faces for quick kisses as we dig. We start to worry that we're never going to get out of here as we dig.

We finally reach air and pull ourselves on top of the snow. I look around at the vast whiteness, and wonder if I'm ever going to see my cape again. Gregorio says there's no way he's ditching his Armani suit, so we glide gracefully through the snow until we spot a dark mound near the top of a mountain and find our clothes. We gather our things and decide to head down to the base of the mountain, where we won't have to worry so much about getting lost in the snow again. We slide down on our knees, half skiing, half sledding. It's a riot.

Darkness has set in by the time we reach the bottom of the mountain. We build a small fire in a patch of dirt near our boat. Not because we need it for the light or the warmth, but because it reminds us of Madagascar. We want to watch the flames and let our minds wander. We sit down and nuzzle into each other and watch the flames. Our minds wander. So do our hands. So do our mouths.

I'm on top of Gregorio, straddling him. My hands are pushed into the ground on either side of his head, and we're playfully licking and nipping at each other's lips. I latch onto his scar and suck it into my mouth. I tickle it will my tongue. I love that scar. I fricking love that scar.

I release his lip and say, "Gregorio, I'm starving."

He opens his eyes wide in mock fright and asks, "Are you at least going to give me a head start this time?"

"Ha ha," I respond sarcastically. I'm able to laugh about it now.

I haven't seen any wildlife at all. I look to the icy water. "Fishing, I presume," I say.

"Unfortunately," he groans.

"Oh, it's not so bad," I say as I roll off of him and stand up. "Come with me," I demand sweetly, pulling on his hands. I don't want to be more than a few feet away from him ever again.

We slip between two slabs of ice into the inky sea and enter a new universe. We are immersed in quiet, chilled purple while an enormous mosaic of black trapezoids and polygons floats above us. Our legs undulate like fins as we dive down to the depths, where we know we'll find bigger game.

We dive until we spy our prey, and then we dart through the dark water like two, gleaming apparitions. I feast on huge cod and other fish, while Gregorio only picks at them. He's still full from Amsterdam and is only down here to appease me. We're reenergized, and we glide back up through the frigid water, playfully spinning and dancing around each other. We poke our heads above the surface, and all we can see are ridges of floating ice chunks. Gregorio pulls himself up onto a miniature berg, and I do the same. We see the tiny spot of golden light from our fire in the distance. We exchange a mischievous sideways glance, and the race is on.

We skip like lightening over the slabs of ice toward shore. I'm in the lead until I land too hard on a berg, and it cracks in two, sending me to my knees. I quickly recover and make a diagonal bee line to Gregorio, who has shot ahead of me. From two bergs behind, I leap at him, and we crash down. We land on a strong plait of ice. It doesn't break, although Gregorio has made a significant dent. I pull myself to my knees beside him and run my hand delicately along the side of his face. He's lying on his back, looking up at me.

"Gregorio," I say tenderly, "I have to tell you something."

He tilts his head and narrows his eyes expectantly, ready to listen to whatever I have to tell him.

I raise my knee and place one foot flat on the ice. My lips curl into a wicked grin, and I say, "I am _totally_ going to beat you to shore!"

I launch myself from the ice and zoom across the surface of the sea. I can hear Gregorio behind me. He's close. I'm a few feet from shore when he slams into my back, catapulting us both into the snowy ice near our fire. We roll around and giggle and kiss until he pins my hands over my head, and then we just kiss. We kiss every bit as aggressively as we just pounded across the ice. I wrap my legs around him again, and we spend some more quality time in the snow.

* * *

Even though we are vampires, even though our body temperatures operate at subhuman levels, even though we've been extraordinarily active, hours and hours on ice and snow, combined with a dip in the frozen sea has taken its toll on us. Gregorio gets blankets from the boat, and we wrap ourselves in them and sit by the fire.

Our hair has frozen into black crystals – Gregorio's in curling waves and rings, and mine in sharp spikes. We hold our heads near the heat of the fire and comb our fingers through each others' hair as it thaws and dries. I style Gregorio's soft and shaggy, like in Madagascar. He strokes mine back and tucks it behind my ears. He seems to want it away from my face. We are quiet during this time, silently studying each other's faces and exchanging small, tender smiles. We are in love.

"Gregorio," I say delicately. I don't want to disturb our perfect moment, but I need to tell him something. "There was something else in Madagascar. Something else that made me see you in a new light."

His look turns curious as he continues stroking my hair.

"You told me that you refused to transform humans into vampires," I say.

His black, shining eyes flick warily onto mine.

"You said your reasons were complicated," I continue. "Will you tell me what they are? Explain them to me?"

Gregorio sighs deeply, and then sounds a bit reluctant when he tells me, "Yes, my love, I will tell you. If you want to know, I will tell you."

"I want to know."

He takes his hands from my hair and holds his arms out to me. I come to him and snuggle into his chest. I turn so that we're both facing the fire. He wraps his blanketed arms around me and begins his story.

"I was human during the fifteenth century, in the Umbrian hills of Italy. I don't remember my human life at all. I only know bits and pieces that I've surmised over time. I'm one of those unique cases where I don't know who created me. Perhaps he was interrupted half way through feeding on me and had to suddenly leave; perhaps he converted me and was subsequently killed; or perhaps he'd changed me only for sport and had no interest in watching over a newborn. Whatever the case, the result was that I was left an out-of-control, blood-thirsty vampire rampaging through the Volturi's back yard. It didn't take long for them to catch up with me.

"They saw that I was a newborn and brought me in instead of destroying me on the spot. They took care of me and taught me how to live discreetly. Along the way, I exhibited a knack for organization and leadership. Dogged determination and intimidation were my key talents."

I nod. I'm fully acquainted with Gregorio's dogged determination.

"I didn't care anything about my human life. I was an up-and-comer with the Volturi and loving every minute of it. One cloudy day, about a decade after I'd become a vampire, I was walking in the hill town of Orvieto. I'd only recently become disciplined enough to walk among humans as if I were one of them. I turned a corner and came face to face with a woman who sent a jolt through me. I had a connection with this woman. I had known her in my human life.

"My attention was caught by a pre-pubescent boy when he came running along to her side, carrying a basket of bread and other items from the market. He called her, '_mama_.' The boy had thick, black curls, and he looked at me curiously through deep, brown eyes that were the image of mine, except for their slightly lighter hue. I knew instantly that he was my son and that this woman next to him had been my wife. The boy must have been very small when I'd left him and didn't know who I was. To him I was just a stranger on the street, staring at him. But the woman…the woman…she knew."

Gregorio pauses for a moment and his arms stiffen around me. It seems the story has become difficult for him.

"Her wide eyes fixed on me with a tumult of emotion raging though them. I'll never forget the confusion, the betrayal, the agony, and the accusation in those hazel eyes. I don't know how she understood my presence there that day. I clearly hadn't aged since she'd last seen me, and my appearance had subtly altered in other ways, but she knew it was me, the man she remembered as her husband. The man who'd left her alone with a baby. Surely she must have thought me dead, but there I was. Did she now think I'd walked out on them, found the fabled fountain of youth and left my family for better things?

"She'd clamped her mouth tightly, as if to hold in a scream, and her fists clenched, dropping the bundle she'd been carrying. All the while, her eyes burned on me. The boy merely snapped his gaze back and forth between us, dumbfounded as to what was going on. I was obviously distressing them, this family that I didn't remember. There was nothing I could say that would make it easier for them, so I walked away. Without a word, I walked out of their lives a second time and never went back, never tried to find out a thing about them. It was better that way.

"But I thought about them often. The unbearable pain in the woman's eyes. The beautiful boy who had to grow up without a father, never knowing what had happened to him. It would have been better for them if I had died a normal death. At least then they would have had a body. They would have known what had happened to me. It would have been better for them. Instead, they lived the rest of their lives thinking……I don't know what they thought."

Gregorio begins subconsciously rubbing his hands along my arm. "So that is why I refuse to transform anyone. I don't want to put that agony in anyone else's eyes. It's not a natural end to a life. It's not the way it is supposed to be."

I bring my arms over his and hold his hands still. This obviously wasn't an easy thing for him to share. "You are so good, Gregorio. You are so good," I tell him. "I've always thought the practice of intentionally transforming humans was wrong. The human soul was meant to move on to the next life, not to roam the earth for eternity."

Gregorio makes a small noise in his throat, indicating that he's both surprised and pleased by what I've just told him. "Two philosophers against the world," he murmurs in my ear. "Too bad no one will listen to us."

I turn to face him. I touch his chin to bring his eyes to mine. "We can change the world if we decide to, Gregorio," I tell him evenly, not breaking our gaze.

He pulls his eyebrows together and examines me; he didn't expect my earnestness on the subject. Then he says, "Yes, Elisabeta, I believe _you_ could change the world, or at least die trying." He goes back to staring into the flames. Recounting his story has taken something out of him.

I nuzzle back into him and face the fire. I can't believe how close I feel to Gregorio in such a short time. I'm ready to share my secrets. Some of them.

"I have a story too," I say quietly.

Gregorio reestablishes his tight embrace and asks me to tell him. I tell him about Kristoph. I tell him everything, every detail. It's extremely difficult. More difficult than I could have imagined. Father Pawel is the only other person on this earth who knows, and I'd never been able to relate most of the gruesome details to him. Gregorio listens and holds me. The old urge to scream doesn't boil up in me like it used to, but I'm drained. I don't like confessing. It's not comfortable. When I'm finished, I turn to Gregorio and wrap my arms tightly around his neck. He rubs my back and strokes my hair.

He whispers to me, "I'm so sorry, Elisabeta. I'm so sorry that happened to you."

He calms me. He makes me feel stronger. I push myself up from him with my hands on his chest.

"There's something else," I tell him. "Gregorio," I say slowly and hesitate. It's okay. I can trust him. I love him. He loves me. "I don't feed on humans anymore. I haven't since Kristoph."

I watch his face. He's perfectly still. I can't read his dark eyes or his pale features.

"None at all?" he finally asks in wonder.

I shake my head. "At first I couldn't. I tried, but I'd always think of Kristoph, and I couldn't. Then I got better, but I still didn't want to. It just, it suddenly seemed so wrong. I knew I could survive without taking human life, so it seemed like I shouldn't anymore."

"Is it very difficult for you?" he asks.

"Not really. Not usually. For me, there are a lot of extenuating circumstances that make it easier to abstain. But you read in my book about the other vampires who live this way and have resisted much stronger temptations. They found ways to do it. One of the covens I interviewed and quoted were the Cullens in Washington. They come from diverse backgrounds, but they've banded together and gain strength from each other. And of course, there's the Madigascarians, who tend to go with the 'out of sight, out of mind' approach. It can be done."

"But you've done it all alone," Gregorio says, running his fingertips down my face.

I look down. Should I tell him about Father Pawell? Of course I should. But something holds me back. I can't look him in the eye, so I lean down, into his shoulder.

He rubs his hand slowly up and down my back. As his hand tickles me, he utters admiringly, "My Elisabeta, breaking all the rules."

His strong hand on me and the compliment give me the courage to take another step, to push it a little further. "Gregorio, do you think you'd ever consider it? Giving up humans?" I ask.

"Hmm," he murmurs. "It's not something I've ever thought about. It's such an inherent part of our existence. But I suppose--" His voice cuts off, and his hand freezes on my back and goes rigid. "My God, Elisabeta," he hisses, "You're already trying to change the world, aren't you?" With his other hand he grasps my chin and pulls me to face him. "When did this thing happen with Kristoph?" he demands.

"Fifty years ago," I answer carefully. I don't know where this is going.

"Ten years before you returned to B.I.T.E., long enough to convince yourself that feeding on humans was wrong, that none of us should be doing it. Long enough to _make a plan_," he says accusingly, jerking my face.

I yank my face from his grip and push myself entirely away from him and stand up. In a flash, he's standing directly in front of me.

"Your research, the book – you've been plotting this entire time, haven't you? You only came back to tap into B.I.T.E.'s resources." His voice is seething.

I hadn't expected him to put it all together this easily. I'm not prepared. I can only stare at him stupidly.

He looks up the sky and bellows, "I am such a fool! This whole thing has just been another one of your tricks, hasn't it? You're only trying to manipulate me into buying into your little scheme!" His eyes are as hard as I've ever seen them, and all of their fury is directed at me. "You've never stopped working for a moment have you?"

"What?" I shout. "How dare you!"

"You've been playing me since day one! I've always known you were up to something, Elisabeta. At least now I finally know what it is," he adds bitterly.

"Oh, so _you're_ the one who's been working overtime! Pretending to love me! Sweetening me up so you can find out my secret! Well, you're very good at what you do, Gregorio. I suppose that's how you got that scar – toyed with the wrong vamp, did you? She wasn't trying to eat you; she was trying to _kill_ you!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Gregorio spits.

"Oh, but I am ridiculous, Gregorio!" I scream. I am out of control. Everything, everything I thought I'd held in my arms a moment ago has turned out to be an enormous fricking lie. I am shouting blindly and flailing my arms. "I am ridiculous! I fell in love with you! I believed you! I _trusted_ you! I am a ridiculous, stupid, idiot fool!"

"Elisabeta!" Gregorio shouts as he grabs my arms and yanks me forward. I'd been about to step into the fire. I wrench my arms out of his grip and step backwards, away from him, away from the fire. I want to run away, but there's nowhere to go. I'm trapped.

"Calm down," he says. His voice is shaking, but he's making an effort to be more reasonable.

I'm not.

I face him with my jaw set and eyes blazing. I don't say a word. I have nothing to say to him. Gregorio mistakes my infuriated silence for a willingness to listen.

"You must realize what a dangerous thing this is to try to do," he says. "You've been abusing your position at one of the most powerful organizations in the world. If Viktor finds out--"

"Oh, and I'm sure you'll make certain that he does," I growl.

Gregorio's eyes ignite again. "You're going to attempt this no matter what I say, aren't you?" he fumes. He takes a step toward me to grab my hands. I take a defiant step back. He stops his advance and regards me. He sees my determination; it's a sentiment he can understand. "Well then, you are a bigger fool than me," he says ominously.

I don't need to listen to his lecture.

"Take me home, Gregorio," I huff through gritted teeth.

"At your service, _as ever_," he says nastily.

We pull on our traveling clothes, careful not to look at each other as we get dressed. Gregorio gathers the rest of our items and tosses them angrily into the boat. Then he puts out the fire while I shove my things into my waterproof backpack and secure it. He shoves the boat into the water, then leaps in and takes the wheel. I sit at the back of the boat, as far away from him as possible.

He starts the engine, and our fairy tale ends.


	14. In a Cave

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

In a Cave

I'm turned completely around with my back resolutely to Gregorio as he speeds our boat back to Europe. I watch our wake through dull eyes. I don't need the blanket for warmth, but it feels right to keep the dreary, grey wool draped over me as I stare despondently out to sea. Neither one of us has said a word since we left Greenland. We are each completely alone with our miserable thoughts.

I can't believe I was so stupid. I've worked my ass off for all these years, and now I've jeopardized everything for a pair of delicious, red lips and some pretty words. _'I wanted the snow to meet its match.' _What a load of lemur droppings. I wonder how many other girls that's worked on. I cringe. Not because I fell for his cheesy line, but because I can't stand the thought of Gregorio with another woman. Even through all this anger, I know that I love him. It's not going to be easy to make that go away.

What Gregorio doesn't realize is that when I asked him to take me home, I was hardly referring to Romania. Who knows what kind of interrogation he's planning for me there. I'm going to Poland. Several leagues ago, I surreptitiously brought my backpack close. It is now slung onto my back, under the blanket. We're in the middle of the North Sea, and I am outta here. I slip the blanket off of me and dive so gracefully into the water that I'm sure I didn't even make a splash. Gregorio will turn around as he nears Amsterdam and discover that his prisoner is nothing more than a lump of wool.

I swim around Denmark into the Baltic Sea and change into dry clothes as soon as I reach Poland's deserted shore. Then I make my way over land toward Father Pawel. The run has been good for me. Helped me to burn off some of my more violent emotions. But I'm still a miserable wretch. I reach the top of a grassy hill and see the monastery in the distance. I can't go there. I want to be alone. I sit on the hill and close my eyes and think.

The thing is, I don't actually believe that Gregorio was trying to trick me into anything. I'm a player. I know when I'm being played. Gregorio wasn't playing me. He was too specific when he recounted the history of his feelings for me. You can't just make that shit up. It really happened. I think about his absolute joy when I told him that I loved him. I think about our time together in Greenland, all the things we shared. That wasn't pretend. That was real. It was real.

I believe that he _thought_ he loved me. But his love apparently didn't extend as deeply as I'd hoped, or it wouldn't have been so easy alienated. His reaction to my project would not have been so profoundly negative if he really loved me. If he loved me enough. If he loved me the way Emmett loves Rosalie.

God, I am such an idiot! That's what I wanted wasn't it? I wanted a love like those two imbeciles have. So I pretended that's what Gregorio and I had. I release a small moan. It rolls down the hills, and I'm sure it's going to reach Father Pawel. I hope he'll know it's mine. I hope he'll light a candle for me. I need that candle, because I do love Gregorio like that. I do. There's not one thing I don't love about that man, even his stubbornness. But I can't make his love bigger than it is, and if he doesn't love me enough to support my life's ambition, there's no point in having any of his love at all.

I really did think his love was big enough. He certainly made me believe that it was. But it wasn't.

I've got to get going. I have another moan-worthy issue to deal with. I need to let my cohorts in America know about the set back. I have no idea what Gregorio plans to do. He doesn't know any of my specific plans, but I mentioned the Cullens by name, so he'll most certainly have B.I.T.E. look into them. Gregorio also knows about the Madagascar coven, but I haven't let them in on the plan yet, so I can worry about them later. At best, we delay the operation and lay low for a while. At worst, B.I.T.E. tracks us all down and makes sure that we understand in no uncertain terms that we are never ever to proceed with our shenanigans.

The worst part about informing my American comrades of the new developments is that I'll have to admit what a ridiculous, stupid, idiot fool I've been. I've been taking the piss out of them for years, and now I'll be handing them all the ammo they need to blow me away on a silver platter.

I leave the hill when it turns dark again. I call Alaska from the airport to let them know I'll be a few days early. I don't give them any details yet. That can wait. On the plane, I start formulating a believable story for B.I.T.E. I'll share this with Denali and the Cullens so that we can give consistent answers when the inevitable interrogations begin.

I think I've got a good story worked out by the time I land in Alaska. I hop in my minivan and make my way to the home of the Denali coven. I've kept my visits to Denali limited to the bare minimum necessary for my research. The Denalis are not as fun as the Cullens. The Cullens at least keep me entertained with all of their oddities, whereas the Denalis seem drenched in a perpetual blandness. They bore me. Perhaps it's because there's so many women – only one male in the group. I'm the kind of girl who prefers a higher quotient of testosterone in a room

And - I'll admit it - I'm a little bit scared of their stunning, strawberry blonde leader, Tanya. She has an eerie intensity about her. She watches me like a snake watches a juicy rat. She's never made a move to strike, but she makes me nervous, and I don't dare unleash any of my sometimes vicious, teasing repartee on her. What fun is that?

I approach the mountainous Alaskan wilderness. While the Cullens have made every minute effort to make their house appear as if humans live there, the Denali coven's dwellings are more of a giant 'ef you' to non-mythicals. Their residence practically drawls out loud in a crude Brooklyn accent, '_Yeah, we're vampayus; whatta you gonna do about it?_' I suppose the only reason they get away with it is because it's buried so deep in the mountains that there's very little chance of a human ever coming across it.

I have to leave my car far from the entrance to their home, because the terrain gets too rough. They live in a cave. I'm not a geologist, but I don't think it technically qualifies as a cave. It's more of a huge recess in a mountain, but cave sounds much cooler. The residence comprises one large, central room with smaller rooms off of it. There's no kitchen whatsoever, and all of the furniture is substantial and hard, not cushy and upholstered, an unnecessary luxury for our rigamortized bodies.

The Denali girls have decorated their home in rich reds and deep purples. They've hung sensual, abstract paintings and intricate tapestries along the smooth, stone walls. Wrought iron lanterns hang throughout the place, flickering with the only source of light. The golden glow bathes the walls in constant movement of shadow and light, giving the impression that the cave itself is alive and pulsating. It is a veritable sirenic lair. I pity the unsuspecting man who unwittingly enters.

As I approach the entrance, I wonder which Cullens will be here. Surely Carlisle won't send all of them. One of the results of being housed in a cave is that outsiders are unable to detect the internal scents until they are very close. Of course, it also means the residents don't get much warning when someone else approaches. I'm a mere ten feet away from the entrance before I'm hit full in the face with the now familiar scent of musk and spices. He's here. Holy shit, Gregorio is here!

My mind begins racing with all the possible scenarios I'll find inside. He's obviously reacting more aggressively than I anticipated. I have to get in there and stop whatever it is he's trying to do. I leap to the entrance and unceremoniously yank open the huge, iron door. I plunge myself into the middle of the large, central room and stand at a crouch, ready to take on whatever comes at me.

"Hey Elie," Alice's voice chirps casually.

The only muscles that move in my body are my eyeballs as I take in my surroundings. Alice is across the room holding sticks of incense in her hand. She smiles and gives me a little wave. I scan across the wide room and see the others grouped together. They all have an undulating, reddish cast to their faces as they reflect the flames and the colored walls. Edward and Eleazar, the one Denali male, are sitting on sturdy wooden chairs. Next to Eleazar stands his mate, Carmen. Across from them, in a stiff-looking leather armchair, sits Gregorio. Tanya is perched on the arm of his chair with her arm draped over the back of it. She's never looked more like a snake in her life.

The scene is cozier than I expected. Clearly Gregorio is schmoozing them before he starts playing hardball. He was probably waiting until I arrived. But how did he know I was going to be here? I never mentioned Alaska.

They are all looking at me curiously. Except for Edward and Gregorio. Edward doesn't look me in the eye and seems to feel awkward. Gregorio's intense gaze on me is unreadable. He's in total control of himself, but I see the flash behind his pitch black eyes as he watches me. After I take inventory of the rest of the room, he is the only one I look at.

"How did you find me?" I demand, not bothering with any sort of greeting.

He nods toward Eleazar. Oh shit. I forgot that Eleazar also used to be with the Volturi. Gregorio and he must know each other. I wonder what lies Gregorio told Eleazar to gain an invitation into his home. Gregorio doesn't offer any explanation beyond his nod, and I don't ask for one. Our eyes continue to burn on each other in silence. My position has not relaxed a centimeter.

The scent of incense trickles into the room and Alice wanders over. She doesn't say anything, but I can see in my peripheral vision that she's looking perplexedly between Gregorio and I. I notice her head suddenly freeze in place. I snap my gaze over to her and see that she's staring forward, zoning in on something, yet not seeing what's immediately in front of her. This is how she looks when she gets a vision of the future.

Her focus comes back into the present, and she gasps, "Oh." Then she flicks her eyes from me to Gregorio and repeats, "O-oh," more suggestively and gives me a devilish wink and a smile. I notice Tanya's shoulders slump, and her arm retreats from the back of the chair.

My reaction is violent. "Your gift must be working in reverse Alice, because I assure you, anything worth 'oh'ing about between me and him is in the _past_! And I don't remember giving you permission to look into my personal business!" I snap.

"It doesn't require anyone's permission. It just sort of happens," Alice shrugs.

"Well, knock it off," I pointlessly warn her.

I turn back to Gregorio. "Don't get your hopes up by anything she might delude herself into seeing," I tell him. My stance changes from a defensive crouch to an offensive one. I'm ready to strike at the least provocation. "There's more of us here than you, so I don't know what it is you planned on doing, but it isn't going to work."

"Elie," Edward says slowly and soothingly. "It's okay. I think we should all calm down and listen to what he's come here to tell us. He only wants to talk." He's been reading Gregorio's deceptive mind.

I don't take my eyes off of Gregorio as I hiss between clenched teeth, "Careful, Edward. He has a way of making people believe things that _aren't_ true."

"Elisabeta," Gregorio appeals in his deep rumble. I'm totally unprepared for how painful it is to hear him say my name. I flinch, but immediately regain my composure.

"You're here to speak to the group, not me," I say in a barely stable voice. "Say what you have to say and then leave." I relax my stance, but I'm more than ready to rip his face off if it comes to that.

His eyes lower to the floor for a second, and then he stands and turns his attention to the group. He's got his full schmooze on and has dressed down to make himself less intimidating. He's wearing jeans with a thick, charcoal, turtleneck sweater under a tweed blazer. I've never seen him in jeans before. He looks horribly handsome and elegant in the ensemble. For a tortured moment, I wish that I didn't have to hate him.

"I know about your plans. Elisabeta has…unwillingly divulged them to me," he says.

I shoot a look of apology around the room. No one is looking at me. They're all warily regarding Gregorio. Except for Edward; he's keeping his attention on me. He's reading my reactions to what Gregorio says.

"I'm not going to stand in your way," Gregorio continues. "I won't do anything to impede your progress. But I must warn you, if the Volturi and B.I.T.E. catch wind of what you're trying to do - and they most certainly will, eventually - I won't be able to stop them from coming after you. This is a fool's game you are playing. Vampires' surviving on human blood is a natural, innate part of our existence. You won't be able to change that. It's a lost cause, and you may very well lose your lives pursuing it. I urge you to reconsider."

He turns to me. "Elisabeta, I don't have any silver bullets for this. I won't be able to save you this time."

So, it took forty years for him to finally decide to hold _that_ over my head. I grit my teeth and reply, "I never asked for your silver bullets, Gregorio."

"Elisabeta," he says in a low voice, taking a step toward me. "Please. Can we go somewhere to talk privately?"

"No," I reply flatly. I force my voice into a smooth, clear sheet of ice. "I won't leave these people who've proven the depth of their commitment to go talk with someone who's proven exactly how shallow he is."

"Very well, I'll say it here then," he says somewhat stiffly.

Without a sound, the others have moved to one of the smaller rooms. I see Tanya leer at us doubtfully before she disappears. I keep my eyes on the floor rather than looking at Gregorio. Alice's spiky hair casts an oblong shadow on the floor just outside the other room until it is jerked back by the shadow of someone else's hand. They can still hear every word Gregorio is about to say, but he apparently doesn't care.

"I had planned on telling you all of this before we got off the boat, but you exited rather earlier than expected," he says with a note of reprimand.

The corners of my mouth turn up in a tiny, triumphant smile.

He ignores my smile. In a fervently penitent tone, he says, "I overreacted. I'm sorry. I should have heard you out. We could have discussed it more calmly. I have been berating myself for the way I acted ever since I turned around and saw that you were gone."

Something in my chest lurches. He's sorry. It's exactly what I would have loved for him to have said back in Greenland. But it's too late now. Now it all seems a little too premeditated.

"Elisabeta, I lov--"

"Don't say it," I interrupt in a harsh whisper. My eyes flick to him before forcing themselves back to the ground. "You are _not_ allowed to say that to me any more. I've seen your true colors, Gregorio, and they're selfish and misguided and ugly. Thank you for sharing them with me so soon, before…before…" I was going to say '_before things went too far_,' but they've already gone too far, and my voice cracks.

"Elisabeta," he whispers in a thick voice filled with an emotion that I don't want to hear.

"Go, Gregorio. There's nothing more you can say. Go," I tell him crisply. I've kept my eyes pointedly away from his, and they are now practically grinding a hole into the cave floor.

He doesn't say another word to me, but before he leaves, he says a gentlemanly goodbye to the others. "Thank you Eleazar, Carmen, and Tanya for your hospitality. Please give my regards to Kate. Edward, Alice, it was a pleasure meeting you."

The others have silently drifted to the edge of the big room and mumble their goodbyes. Eleazar speaks up more clearly, "It was good to see you, Gregorio. You do remember the boundaries we discussed?" He's reminding him that no human hunting is allowed within a certain radius of the cave.

From the corner of my eye, I see Gregorio give an affirmative nod, and then he's gone.

I am miserable.

"Oh, Elie," Alice says in an anguished voice as she steps over to me and puts her hand on my shoulder.

I throw up a defensive hand and quickly say, "I'm fine, Alice. He just caught me off guard. I'm fine. I'll be fine." I look over toward Edward and Eleazar and ask, "Can we believe him? About not turning us in to B.I.T.E.? About letting us proceed unimpeded?"

Edward pulls his eyebrows together thoughtfully and says, "He was being sincere in what he said. Eleazar, you've worked with him in the past, can we expect him to stand by what he said to us today and not waffle?"

Eleazar tilts his head up toward the ceiling and ponders Edward's question. "It certainly seems like the type of thing I would expect from him. He'll allow us a fair shot at pursuing our interests while limiting his own exposure. It doesn't matter to him what we do -- as long as it doesn't negatively affect his standing at B.I.T.E., of course."

"Of course," I chime in bitterly.

Alice is still standing near me, doting on me like a mother caring for her sick child. "Edward, you must have seen how he really feels about her. Tell her," she pleads.

"Alice," Edward says firmly. "That is none of our business."

I quickly turn the subject to the reason I came here in the first pace, and we talk for a bit about our first steps. I learn that a new vampire has joined the Denali coven as Kate's mate. His name is Garrett and he was previously a nomad. He's trying out the vegan lifestyle for himself and will be a wonderful asset to our program because of all of the new contacts he brings us. Right now he and Kate are on a scouting mission throughout Canada and the northern U.S., trying to get a feel for how we might be received.

When enough time has passed to be certain that Gregorio is long gone, I announce that I'm famished and need to go out for a bite to eat. I'm actually just looking for an excuse to be alone. Seeing Gregorio again has shaken me more than I'd like the others to know. I should be hungry, but I don't think I'll be able to choke anything down with all of these knots in my stomach.

I'm not fooling Alice; she's still giving me that motherly look of concern. "Tell her," she demands of Edward out of the side of her mouth.

"Don't," I say sharply.

Edward is blessedly resolute in his determination not to get involved, but Eleazar makes a sympathetic gesture toward me. All this time with women has obviously gotten him in touch with his sensitive side.

"Elie, in all my years of experience with Gregorio, I've always known him to be a good man," he tells me.

I shake my head slowly from side to side and begin backing toward the door. "There's no such thing," I whisper and turn to get to the door before they can watch me fall apart.

I fling the door open and hear Alice murmur an impassioned, "Ed-ward…"

As I step through the doorway, and the heavy, iron swings behind me, Edward's quiet, buttery voice floats across the room. "He truly does love you, Elie."

The door slams shut, and it's a full minute before I can move again.


	15. Sacrifice

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Sacrifice

I start to walk away from the Denali's cave, into the night. Do they think it helps me to hear that Gregorio is a good man? Do they think I need to hear that he loves me? I know these things. Even in my most bitter moments, I know these things. But that doesn't do me any good. It isn't enough. He doesn't love me enough.

Why did I think being alone was a good idea? All I'm going to do is think about him. About him telling me that he's sorry. About him saying he won't interfere with our plans. About how good he looks in jeans and a sweater. But it's not enough. None of that is enough. If he loved me the way I love him, his initial reaction in Greenland would have been different. He wouldn't have accused me of having ulterior motives. He would have known that he was the only reason I was there. He would have been willing to listen to me right then and there instead waiting an entire day to tell me he was wrong.

The smell of blood drifts through the dry, Alaskan air. It's remarkably pungent. I can tell it belongs to a big animal with a diet of woody plants and other forest vegetation. Probably a moose or maybe caribou. It must be close. The smell is so strong. I wasn't hungry, but the rich smell ignites my cravings. I start running through the wilderness toward it. It's further away than I thought. The smell keeps growing stronger, but I still haven't reached it.

It suddenly occurs to me that the scent is so strong because the blood is exposed. Something has already taken down the animal. I get excited. I might face a giant grizzly, which will surely fight me for the meal. Battle with a beast five times my size is exactly what I need right now. I quicken my pace and close in on the hunt. I better be careful, though, because I may be faced with a pack of wolves. I prefer a one-on-one fight.

I'm very close now. I can practically taste the blood in the crisp air. I slow down and move silently through the brush. I want to assess my enemy without letting them know I'm here. The kill is in a forested area just up ahead. I move cautiously and silently through the bramble, closing in on it. I see the silhouette of the lumpy carcass. I see its killer, which is so busy feasting that it doesn't notice my approach. It's not a grizzly. It's not a pack of wolves, either. The solitary figure is hunched over the animal, slurping away furiously. I recognize the tweed jacket and the slick of black waves. I am stunned. It's Gregorio.

I'm so shocked to catch him in this act that I continue stepping forward in a trance. I'm not trying to stifle the sound of my footsteps. I'm not trying to hide. I'm only subconsciously moving forward, trying to figure out why in the hell he is dong this. He could have easily made it to the perimeter and had his choice of humans. It's not as if he'd been so completely famished that he was unable to wait the few extra minutes. He'd had no purple circles under his eyes; his complexion had been perfectly smooth and pale. And I know he doesn't like the taste of beasts, especially herbivores. Why is he doing this?

I'm very close to him, practically right next to him before he turns and tilts his head toward me. His eyes are unfocused, and he's snarling. He's only turned on instinct because he thinks I'm competition. I stay frozen in place and let his eyes clear. I watch them gradually come into focus. He remains crouched over the animal and stares at me, unmoving. A line of blood runs from one corner of his mouth. He seems just as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

"Gregorio, why are you eating a moose?" I ask.

He stares and doesn't say a thing. Something in his eyes seems a little frightened.

"Why aren't you in the next village, hunting Eskimos?" I persist.

His lips barely move when he utters, "For you."

"You're eating a moose for me?" I say. I'm confused, but then something clicks. "Are you saying that you're avoiding humans? For me?"

He almost imperceptibly nods and doesn't break our eye contact.

"But…but '_it's a fools' game_,'" I stammer, quoting him. "You don't believe in it. Why would you do this?" I'm absolutely mystified.

"For you," he repeats, again barely moving his lips and keeping his stunned, coal black eyes locked on mine.

For me? I can't believe it. Yet here he is, sucking on a moose for no other readily apparent reason. Is this a trick? A ruse to get me to give him another chance? But he couldn't have known how soon I'd come along, if at all. Was he just going to crouch here all night, waiting? I study the lingering shock on his face and know that this scenario was not planned, not premeditated. He's doing this. He's doing this for real. For me.

He hasn't moved since first looking up. He's on his knees, hunched over the animal with his head turned toward me. His mouth hangs slightly open, and I can see blood pooled around his bottom row of teeth. I lower myself to my knees in front of him. I put one hand on his shoulder and the other to his jaw. I lean in and touch my lips lightly to his scar. His lovely scar. He doesn't move. I pull back and study his eyes. I don't see an ounce of arrogant triumph there. I see…hope.

My mouth is back on his in five millionths of a second flat. This time he turns his body to me and rises up on his knees. My head tilts back to compensate for his height, and warm, salty, moose blood gushes into my mouth and down the sides of my face. It makes our lips slick so that they slip and slide over and across each other as Gregorio pulls me to him. I cling to him with everything I have. This is it. No more doubts. No more second guessing.

Gregorio grasps the back of my head and holds me still. He pulls his face ever so slightly away from mine, so he can speak breathlessly. "Elisabeta, I can't make any promises. I don't know how long I'll be any good at abstaining from humans. But I'm trying. I'm trying."

"Oh, Gregorio, you don't have to do this. I don't expect you to change your life for me. I love you no matter what," I tell him earnestly.

He rests his forehead on mine and captures me in the endless black of his irises, "Will it make you happy if I can live as a vegan?" he asks.

"Yes, but--"

"Then I'll try," he interjects firmly.

I give him a huge, blood-smeared grin, and then we're back to slipping and sliding. It's amazing to be back in his arms. I don't ever want to leave them again. He's trying. He loves me enough.

We get a bit carried away, and before long I find myself out in the frigid Alaskan tundra stripped down to my cami and boy shorts. I've never felt warmer. Somehow Gregorio's sweater is completely off, but his jacket is still on. It hangs open, revealing his strong chest and flat, delectable stomach. It'll be a shame to see all that covered up again. I slide my hands under his jacket and run them up the muscles of his sides and over his chest. We stay close and lick the blood from each other's faces like cats. When we're clean, we linger for a long, soft kiss before starting to put ourselves back together.

I find my pants and pull them up. I'm in a cloud, fantasizing about my future with Gregorio. "Won't Viktor be thrilled – his two favorites in love," I say absently.

Gregorio's face turns unexpectedly serious and he says, "I'd hardly use the word 'thrilled,'"

I'm surprised by this response. "Why not?" I ask, tilting my head as I button my pants.

He threads his fingers through my hair and tilts my head further, exposing the side of my neck.

"You are so deliciously naive, my sweet girl," he says. Instead of explaining whatever that is supposed to mean, he touches his cool lips to the base of my jaw and draws the edges of his sharp teeth slowly down my throat to my clavicle. A light trail of seering pain follows his progress. If I were human, my neck would be slit clean open and gushing blood.

"He created you," he says quietly as he kisses his way across my throat and around to the thick muscle at the back of it.

He's mimicking the classic seduction ritual through which male vampires often transform – or kill – their female, human prey. Viktor had probably done something like this to me hundreds of years ago. As Gregorio sinks his teeth into my stone flesh and begins to suck, I wonder if perhaps his last statement had carried a note of jealousy. His tongue and mouth continue to work on me and my thoughts scramble - what is potentially fatal to a human is intensely pleasurable to a vampire. I sigh out loud.

Gregorio pulls away and regards me with haughty satisfaction. I surely hadn't sighed for Viktor.

I let Gregorio stretch my arm out and work his way along it in a long line of teasing, baby kisses. This isn't part of any ritual. It's simply my lover kissing me. Each feathery kiss is so light that it tickles and makes me want more.

Gregorio hasn't finished his explanation of why Viktor won't be happy we're together, but I'm waiting very patiently. I'm quite enjoying the delay. When he reaches my wrist, he grasps it and spins my waist with his other hand. He crosses both of my arms over my stomach and holds me so that my back is pressed against his naked chest.

He nuzzles his mouth into my bare shoulder and murmurs, "He's not going to like seeing that your loyalty has transferred to me."

"Loyalty?" I bristle. He talks of me as if I'm nothing more than a puppy running to whoever offers the best treats.

I try to pull away from him, but he holds me firm. I lean my shoulders as far forward as I can and turn to look at him. He's smirking. I narrow my eyes at him.

"My _loyalty_ has only ever belonged to one person and will always belong to only that person," I tell him.

He cocks a curious eyebrow at me, wondering who this person is.

"Me!" I inform him.

A corner of his mouth rises in an approving smile.

"Well then, my queen, I am your loyal subject," he says, bowing his head slightly in mock submission. When he lifts his head, his eyes are again crinkled with concern. "And Viktor isn't going to like that any better," he says ominously.

He slackens his grip on my hands, and I spin around in his arms and kiss him hard on the mouth. Viktor shmiktor. I am loyal to Gregorio, and he is loyal to me. We are loyal to each other, and that's all that matters. Hang everything else. It'll all work out. It has to. My arms wind tightly around his neck, and he wraps his arms just as tightly around my waist.

We manage to stop at a kiss this time and then finish getting dressed. Gregorio needs to return to Romania immediately to stave off suspicion, and I need to stay in Alaska to complete the business I came here for. It's best if we arrive in Romania separately, anyway. Gregorio has convinced me that we should keep our relationship a secret from everyone at B.I.T.E. until he's had a chance to feel Viktor out on the subject.

I'm suddenly starving, so we drink every last drop of the moose together. Gregorio is surprised at how filling it is. Then we reluctantly part in the forest, stepping slowly away from each other and not relinquishing our touch until the last fingertip is stretched to its limit. I'll miss him, but it's impossible for me to be sad right now. I'm too elated by knowing that what Gregorio and I have is real and better than ever.

I try to mask my face in something other than idiotic bliss when I reenter the cave. Edward and Alice are alone in the big room. My attempt to play it cool doesn't do me any good, because Alice immediately smiles a small, knowing smile and begins humming a gleeful tune that sounds suspiciously like '_I told you so_,' repeated over and over again.

"How could you possibly know?" I demand incredulously.

"I had a vision as soon as you shut the door," she explains.

"Well, how do you know that wasn't a potentially inaccurate vision of something way in the future, somewhere else?" I challenge.

"I saw the moose and recognized the stand of trees. And you were wearing that same outfit…for a while, anyway," she adds slyly.

I gasp and replay the scene from the woods in my head to get an idea of what she might've seen. Then I remember that Edward can read both my thoughts and Alice's visions. I snap my gaze to him and try to shut down my mind. I can see from his mild embarrassment that he's been tuning in.

"Do you two ever feel like disgusting, voyeuristic pervs?" I ask. I'm trying to be irritable with them, but I can't seem to wipe the moronic grin from my face.

Alice merely shrugs, and Edward bites back a smile.

The door swings open, and Kate bounds in with the new guy behind her. They've returned from their scouting trip.

"Hello, everyone," Kate calls and the rest of the Denali clan filters in from the smaller rooms. "Oh, Elie, you're already here," Kate says. Her voice is neither friendly nor unfriendly. "You haven't met Garrett. He's joined our clan. Garrett, this is Elie, the researcher from B.I.T.E." She glows adoringly at the new vampire as he reaches out to take my hand.

"I've heard all about you Garrett," I say, grasping his hand firmly. "Welcome to our mission of insanity."

Garrett grins. "Pleased to be a part of it. A little craziness never hurt anybody."

"That can be our motto," I say and smile. I already like him. I can see that he'll liven up the Denali group. Plus - let's face it - everyone around me is going to look pretty damned good through these rose-colored lenses I'm wearing in my love-intoxicated state.

Kate and Garrett exchange greetings with Edward and Alice, who weren't here when they left on their trip. Kate asks, "Edward, where's Bella?"

A stormy cloud passes through his eyes when he answers succinctly, "She stayed home with the baby."

Kate pulls her eyebrows together and opens her mouth as if to ask another question, when Alice swiftly makes a slashing motion with her hand across her throat, indicating that Kate should drop it. Apparently all's not well in paradise.

Kate redirects her question to Alice. "Oh. Well, where's Jasper then?"

"He's home watching over…uh…things," Alice replies cryptically and stays silent.

Kate gives up trying to make conversation with the Cullens and turns her focus to her family. I look questioningly at Alice, who tilts her head, surreptitiously motioning me to the other side of the room. Once there, she tells me, "Jasper's watching over Bella."

"Oh no," I say as low as I can. "Is she exhibiting signs of typical newborn behavior?"

"No," Alice answers quickly. "You just kind of reignited Jasper's paranoia with the things you said at your last visit. She's not too happy with you."

Oh, well.

"To be honest, we're all a little concerned that her current state of agitation could trigger something. Jasper's trying to regulate her mood. She's really mad at Edward for coming here without her. He thought the baby was too young to make the trip, but--"

We're interrupted by Edward, who had appeared to be in conversation across the room. "Please keep private family matters private, Alice," he admonishes.

"Okay, sorry," she answers. She starts to give me a sideways glance, but Edward stops her eyeballs half way there.

"I'd rather you _didn't_ tell her later," he says.

"Sorry," Alice mumbles to me, and the subject is dropped.

"Ladies, come over here," Carmen says. "I think you'll be very interested in what Kate and Garrett have just told us."

We rejoin the group, and Eleazar says, "Tell them, Garrett."

"Well, it appears that public sentiment has turned against the Volturi thanks to testimonial by the witnesses that the Volturi themselves brought to our little soiree in Washington. The witnesses are out there talking to anyone who will listen about how unfairly the Italians tried to use their power.

"The Volturi tracked down a few of the witnesses and disposed of them immediately after they left us, but they couldn't get to all of them at once, so the word started to spread before they could control it. I guess they decided that killing the rest of the witnesses wouldn't be a good way to improve their increasingly bad reputation, and they've apparently given up on hunting them down. They are officially denying any involvement in the deaths of the few witnesses that were already killed and even went so far as to blame our friends in La Push for the murders, but no one is buying that story, and voila - trust in the Volturi is further weakened.

"This can be very good for us for two reasons. Number one, vampires are feeling a bit rebellious against our self-appointed leaders, so they might be up for engaging in a lifestyle that the Volturi won't approve of. Number two, in their eyes, the Volturi look like a bunch of wimps for backing down from the fight, so they're not nearly so afraid of them any more."

Those two reasons give me an uneasy feeling that I can't quite identify. Tanya puts it together for me when she vocalizes what I'm thinking. "Couldn't this rebelliousness and lack of respect for authority also be a very bad thing? What if vampires around the globe start running amuck, killing humans left and right?" she asks poignantly.

Eleazar answers, "That's why it's important for us to get out there to point this nervous energy in a good direction, before it can manifest itself another way."

Kate adds to what he's said. "The main reason everyone is so down on the Volturi is because of their abuse of power. It would be a completely illogical response for them to then abuse their own powers by rampaging on humans."

"Brilliantly put, sweetheart." Garrett says.

We continue to debate what all of this means, and then a committee of five – me, Edward, Alice, Tanya and Eleazar - sit down at a round table to hammer out a specific game plan. Carmen brings us a world map, which we spread out on the table.

We divide the world into geographic segments and discuss who should cover which areas, based on contacts and cultural knowledge. We're going to start out by talking with those vampires that we think will be most amenable to trying out the vegan lifestyle. We've set a first phase goal of recruiting two vampires per region. We'll do what we can to help them succeed, and when they've made good progress, we'll encourage them to tell two friends, and then they can tell two friends, and so on and so on and…

We're also working on a list of five to ten talking points that we can use when we're out there evangelizing. We figure a well thought out, consistent message will work best. I think that we have worked out a solid plan; I just wish that we had more resources, more support to offer to those vampires as they adapt to their new lifestyle. It's going to be extremely difficult for them. I'm thinking of one vampire in particular. One very handsome, very sophisticated, very sexy vampire. I wish I could find a way to make it easier for him.

Edward has picked up on the tangent of my thoughts. One corner of his mouth twitches, and he asks me, "So, do you call him 'Greggie' or 'Orio?'"

"Edward Cullen," I say in feigned shock. "Did you just make a joke?" I reach over and rumple his already rumpled hair, saying, "I'm proud of you, Ward."

He laughingly pushes my hand away, then I sit back and think about a nickname for Gregorio. "You know, I think he's too much man to encapsulate in a nickname. To me, he'll always be _Gregorio_," I say, pronouncing his name in an exaggerated accent and shaking my fingertips, which are pressed to my thumb, in a decidedly Italian gesture.

Alice smiles coyly. "I don't know. If my first vision was accurate, you'll just be calling him '_Yes, yes, yes!_'" she says, getting in my face and slamming the table with her hand every time she says '_yes_.'

"Alice!" I scream in delighted embarrassment, and the two of us bust out in a fit of giggles. Even Edward laughs his beautiful laugh. Eleazar seems uncomfortable with the line of teasing, and Tanya glares at me resentfully.

We get back to business as soon as Alice and I calm down. I stay a couple more days so we can get input from the others and tweak the plan. On my last day, Carlisle and Esme join us. When they walk in, Edward studies them intensely. A cloud passes over his face and settles there. He's gleaned some information from home and isn't pleased about it. No one elaborates on what this news is, and no one asks about it, although Alice shoots concerned looks at her family. They'll tell her later, when the rest of us aren't around. Edward only sticks around long enough to bring Carlisle and Esme up to speed and then heads for home, leaving us to finish up without him

We finish up, and I pack my things. In a couple of weeks, I'll head down to Madagascar to bring them into the fold. But first I'm going to Romania. I'm going to see Gregorio.


	16. Fugitive

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Fugitive

I make a quick pit stop in Poland before I return to headquarters. I need Father Pawel to see me happy. He's seen me through so much misery; he deserves to see me happy. And I am so very, very happy. Probably happier than I've ever been, certainly happier than Pawel has ever seen me. I tell him all about Gregorio. He wonders when the wedding is. I laugh. We talk late into the night - or rather, I babble like a schoolgirl and Pawel patiently listens. He gets sleepy, so I tuck him in and give him a kiss on his warm forehead. I leave for Romania once he is sound asleep.

Gregorio and I talk on the phone and agree that we shouldn't risk seeing each other until the bi-monthly departmental meeting in ten hours. I pace my room the entire morning, counting down the minutes until the meeting and trying not to think about how close Gregorio is. The time finally arrives. As soon as I walk into the conference room, Viktor greets me.

"My Little Beta," he says, walking to me and taking my hands. "You are positively glowing, my dear. What's going on with you?"

"Viktor, how can I help but glow when you greet me so warmly?" I croon.

"Ah, Beta, always a pleasure," he says and leans in to give me a fond kiss on the cheek.

Over his head, I see Gregorio's sultry figure across the room. A jolt of lighting charges through me. I want to run to him, but I hold steady and smile benignly at Viktor. The meeting starts and the jolts don't stop. I surge every time I steal a glance at Gregorio's chiseled features, every time he pierces me with his coal, black eyes. I feel the current rushing from him, too. By rights, every hair in the room should be standing on end from all of this electricity bouncing off of us. If either of us were any less practiced in self control, we'd be mauling each other on the middle of the table right now.

The meeting finally ends, and Gregorio disappears out the door. I walk into the hallway as quickly as possible, but he isn't there. Where did he go? I can't believe he'd just leave me hanging like this. He wouldn't dare to go to my rooms, would he? Does he mean for me to go to his office? I have no idea. He surely doesn't expect me to wait until the next meeting to see him again, does he? I decide to go to my office, where I can send him a strongly-worded text message. As I'm ambling down the corridor, I'm suddenly yanked into a storage closet, and the door slams shut behind me.

I'm surrounded by musk and spices. Before my eyes even adjust to the darkness, I press my mouth to Gregorio's in a long, determined kiss. While our lips and tongues get reacquainted, I inhale his scent. I want all my senses surrounded by Gregorio. I eventually let myself down from him with my arms still around his neck - there's no way I'm going to stop touching him. He seems to feel the same way and keeps his hands firmly around my waist. He nuzzles his nose back and forth in my hair, inhaling me while he murmurs in the deep rumble that I love.

"Oh, Elisabeta, I have missed you."

I can't even begin to tell him how much I have missed him, because my throat is clenched. I am overwhelmed by him. I need to simply hold him and breathe him a while longer.

We bring our faces together again, but we don't kiss. With our eye lids half closed, we slowly rub our faces together. In dream-like slow motion, he drags his cheek against my temple, I run my lips along his jaw line, we press our foreheads across each other. We continue this way for a long time, and then I'm able to speak.

"Is all this secrecy really necessary?" I ask lazily as his lips brush my forehead.

"Probably not," he admits sleepily as I run my cheek along his. "But I find that with Viktor, it's best to proceed with caution…he's agitated about something right now…bad time to surprise him."

"Okay," I murmur in easy acquiescence. The situation has its enjoyable moments, after all. The corners of my mouth turn slightly upward as I think of a joke. "Just tell me when it's safe to come out of the closet," I say.

Gregorio's mouth spreads into a lazy grin as he utters, "That is so lame."

"I know," I laugh.

Our smiling lips cross paths, and we kiss, and we kiss, and we kiss.

*****

This is how our relationship goes for the next weeks - business as usual in front of others and stolen moments in closets when we can. We spend most of our early closet time embracing and talking about how much we miss each other.

"I can't take this much longer," Gregorio tells me. "I'm working Viktor up to it. We'll tell him soon. Very soon."

Then Gregorio's whispers start take on a more serious tone.

"They've asked me to make use of my contacts at the Volturi……sentiment against them continues to spread……Italy's not happy with your American friends……putting pressure on Viktor to stand by them……can't tell which way B.I.T.E. is going to go……best to lay low……I'm concerned about your connection with the Cullens……so far they haven't put you together…"

Gregorio is worried. He thinks Viktor is planning something, but he hasn't been brought in on it. We don't talk about making our relationship public anymore. Gregorio thinks it's best not to tell anyone about us just yet. It's very likely that my secret is going to come out with all of this attention on the Cullens, and he thinks he'll be in a better position to know if I'm in any danger if he distances himself from me. He stops pulling me into closets. I miss him.

One night, there's a soft knock at the door to my rooms. It's Gregorio. I'm shocked that he'd risk coming here, and I pull him in excitedly. My first thought is that he's finally had enough of the ruse and decided it's time to tell everyone about us. But his expression is one of dire concern. This can't be good.

"They've pulled your book from the archive," Gregorio tells me in an urgent whisper. "Viktor's reading it right now. He talked with the boy in publishing and knows exactly how many copies have been printed. He asked me if I knew what you did with them all."

"What did you tell him?" I gasp out in a whisper.

"The truth – that I don't know. You never told me about the extra copies. But I can guess what you did with them. Elisabeta, if they find out that you've distributed them to the Cullens…"

His eyes flick nervously around my room. He's thinking, planning on the fly. He goes to a closet and pulls out my backpack.

"You need to leave. _Now_," he says abruptly. His sharp, determined look stops my protest. "As far as anyone knows, you'll simply be on a research trip. You'll conduct your usual business, but don't stay in one place too long, and keep away from the vegans. Check in periodically with headquarters as usual, but be vague about your location and destination. Check your cell phone regularly, but _don't_ answer it, and don't make calls from it. Say it's out of commission when you check in. I'll text you, but I won't sign the message, and you won't recognize the number it's coming from."

The whole time Gregorio is talking, he's throwing items that I'll need into my backpack. I've kept a curious eye on what's going in there. He's doing a pretty thorough job, which makes me wonder how many women's bags he's packed in his lifetime.

"Elisabeta, are you listening?"

I redirect my focus and answer quickly, "Yes. Got it. But for how long?"

"I don't know. I'll tell you when it's safe to come back. And darling, if they decide they want to, they'll be able to find you anywhere. _Anywhere_. Don't go anywhere that your scent will be strong from frequent visits."

I know that he's talking about the mysterious place that I disappear to on my days off – Father Pawel's monastery. It's exactly where I was thinking of going. Guess not.

"Get to an untraceable phone and tell the Cullens and whoever else you may have given extra copies of your book to to keep it to themselves for now. They'll only be putting themselves – and you – in danger by publicizing the fact that they have them."

He thrusts my backpack at me and grabs my shoulders, pulling me to him for a brief but fervent kiss. Then he sneaks me through the halls and out of the compound, and I'm turned out into the world.

I feel like a fricking fugitive.

And for what? For writing a book? For trying to make the world a better place? I'm not sure that I totally follow Gregorio's logic. He was talking so fast, and information was whirring all around me so that I'm not sure I grasped it all. I know that Gregorio thinks I might be in some kind of danger because of my association with the Cullens, and he wants me far from Viktor's grip, but this whole thing strikes me as a bit overly dramatic. Then again, what the hell do I know?

I follow his instructions, and as soon as I get into Egypt, I pay a small shop owner for the use of his phone and call the Cullens. I talk to Jasper and explain to him what I understand of the situation – that perhaps B.I.T.E. and the Volturi will be joining forces against them and that any evidence of our cooperation could be very bad for all of us. He'll call everyone off the job until further notice. Carlisle will talk to Alaska.

Madagascar doesn't have phones, so despite Gregorio's advice to avoid vegans, I have to go down there to explain the situation. I have a _lot_ of explaining to do since they don't even know why the books came to them in the first place. The swells of the Indian Ocean are outstanding when I arrive, so I find Pippa, Kevin and Plainsong out gliding on the waves. I flag them in to the beach and bring them up to speed. They seem intrigued and excited by all the cloak and dagger business. We bury the books with a promise from the Madagascarians to help out once the project gets back on track.

I peer way out into the ocean and see that I was wrong; the waves aren't outstanding - they're stupendous. I figure it won't hurt to stay the afternoon and play. As I'm consumed with the thrill of navigating an enormous left break, I think of how much Gregorio would love this. We weren't able to surf when he was here last time; the ocean had been too calm. I want him here. Now. I ache for him.

I ache for him everywhere I go.

I leave Madagascar for mainland Africa and visit a tribe of humans. I've heard they drink blood, and I want a closer look. They think I'm an adventurous tourist, which isn't an entirely inaccurate assessment, and invite me to join them at a traditional ceremony. At the end of the ceremony, they pass around a primitive goblet of warm, rich blood. We all take a drink and keep passing. We smile at each other. Thick, red globules drip and cling to our teeth, and we smile huge, stained smiles at each other as if drinking blood is the most natural thing in the world. I wish Gregorio was here.

Alone on the savannah, I see a large, black bug with a spiky horn on his nose. He's slowly, slowly meandering across a dusty path. I sit for an hour, watching that silly guy make his way across the path. I wish Gregorio were here to watch this stupid, crazy bug amble across this dry, dusty path.

I don't get any word from him. Just some spam and phone calls that I can't return since my phone's not supposed to be working. I fax in an update to headquarters right before I leave Africa. I go to China. There are a couple of interesting vampires there that I haven't had much time to look into. They're brainiacs, even by vampire standards. They've put together all sorts of statistics and are conducting their own research, experiments really. They think that if they target specific types of humans for consumption, they can influence their own, natural characteristics. For example, hundreds of yeas ago, they dined exclusively on highly intelligent humans, thus their overdeveloped I.Q.s. I'm unconvinced. I think they always had their intellect and that's what led them to the experiment in the first place.

When I last visited Chen and Stanley twenty years ago, they were going after a sense of humor, and China suddenly became a very dangerous place for funny men and women. I don't see any improvement in their corny jokes at this visit. Maybe it's because their theory is flawed, or maybe it's because there just aren't that many truly funny people in China. I don't know. I don't care. I'm just passing the time.

I'm deciding where to go next, when I get a text message. It's an address in Paris. Nothing else. I know it's from Gregorio. I don't know what this means, and I'm not sure I particularly care. I just want to see Gregorio. I'm going to see Gregorio!

I rush to him at the address in Paris. It's a small, boutique hotel rive gauche. It's the first time we'll be really alone together in a very long time. It's the last time we'll be together for we don't know how long. You know how I've said that nothing is ever warm when it comes to vampires? Well, this is going to be boiling, steaming _hot_.

It's hot from the moment he opens the door and takes me in with his burning eyes, and I come to him without a moment's hesitation. We become arms and legs and mouths, frantically tearing at each other's clothes. Frantic to get to each other. We are pressing and thrusting and gasping and moaning in ecstasy. We're together, together, as close as a man and woman can be.

We relax after our initial desperation is satisfied. Now we're slow, soft caresses and tickling, baby kisses. We're, "_…my love…my darling…my angel..._" Gregorio knows my special spots, and he lightly blows on them and follows up with his gentle mouth and tongue. I purr. I keep purring while I visit his special spots. Gregorio growls and keeps growling as I take things too far, and we're again rolling around in our oblivion. All thought, worry, planning, concern goes out the window. We're only aware of our need for each other. Our insatiable need.

*****

I'm lying sideways on the bed, staring out our window at the streaming rain. Gregorio is behind me. I'm resting my head on his arm, and he's tracing his fingers down my back and kissing my shoulder. He's given me the update. Viktor has been mildly irritated that I haven't been around when he's wanted to see me, but it doesn't look like he's called out the dogs on me – yet. The only potentially disconcerting news is that he's connected me with the Cullens, although we don't know what that means for us. Gregorio knows that B.I.T.E. is planning something, but he hasn't been brought in on any of the specifics. Not yet. We're still waiting.

"Let's stay here forever," I murmur in contentment.

"If only we could," Gregorio says wistfully.

I hear too much reality in his comment. I turn my head to him and kiss him. I don't want him to say more right now. It's a long, slow kiss, and the soft popping noises of our lips playing off each other blend in nicely with the slaps of rain outside. Eventually, Gregorio takes his hand to my chin. He gently pulls my face from his and lays my head back on his arm. He's looking down at me with his serious, black eyes. He's going to say more. Damnit.

"I want you to go stay with the Cullens," he tells me.

"No," I complain, turning my whole body toward him. "It's too far. I don't want to be that far from you again. It's too hard."

"I know," he whispers.

He dips his head down to press his cool lips to the smooth skin below my throat. I love the feel of his soft, black waves of hair against my chin. How can I leave this? When he lifts his head, I see the creases at his eyes and the tightness in his features. This isn't easy for him, either. I'm going to stop being a baby. It's not fair to make him be the only strong one.

"Why?" I ask simply. It's not a challenge. I'm going to go with the program.

"You should be with people who can defend you. If this is the direction Viktor is heading, he'll come after you all anyhow. You may as well be together. And with their ability to foresee danger, you'll stand a good chance. I've already talked to Carlisle, and he will welcome you."

"Okay," I say. He's right. It makes sense. Damnit.

"It won't be forever," he tells me. "Just until I can figure out what's going on. This may all come to nothing. Viktor's starting to bring me in on things, so I should know where this is going soon."

I nod and place my hand at the side of his gorgeous face. "You'll come see me when you can?" I ask.

"Yes," he says and turns his face to kiss my palm.

"And you'll think of me every day?" I ask.

"Every second," he tells me.

As we're talking, Gregorio has run his hand down my leg. He hooks it under my knee and bends my leg, pulling it up to my side. He's familiar with my flexibility and straightens out my calf, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it. He kisses down my leg to the back of my knee and then to the inside of my thigh. He keeps moving, and it's a long time before we speak again in any discernable language.

***

I leave him that evening.

"Goodbye, my little fugitive," he says to me with a soft kiss to my forehead.

I tear out of there while I'm still strong, before I weaken and make things more difficult for Gregorio. I'm a wreck on the plane. I think it would have bean easier not to have seen him at all. I ache for him more than ever.

As soon as I walk into the Cullens' house, I head straight to Jasper. He puts his arm around my shoulders, and we sit on the couch. I bring my knees up and curl into him with my arms thrown around his abdomen and my head buried into his shoulder. I'm touching as much of Jasper's surface as I can. I need his vibe. We are two of the prickliest vampires I know, and we're snuggling on the couch together.

Alice doesn't mind. She knows what it's all about. She knew this was going to happen.


	17. Fairyland

Chapter 17

Fairyland

I can feel Jasper's magic starting to work on me, starting to pierce through the cloud of misery that has enveloped me since leaving Gregorio in Paris. Alice is kneeling on the floor in front of us.

"You and Gregorio are going to be together again," she says soothingly.

I lift my dull eyes to her and ask hopefully, "Do you see that?"

Her eyes fall to the floor. "No," she admits. "But that's only because so many things are undecided. I can't see exactly where or when you'll be together, but I just know that you will be."

I nod dejectedly and press my face into Jasper. Alice looks worriedly at him and squeezes his hand.

After about another hour, I am officially sick of myself. I sit up, push away from Jasper, and make an announcement. "Okay, I am through being pathetic. Thanks Jasp, or Jazz, or whatever it is they're calling you these days. Somebody tell me what's new around here in the land of mist and freakiness," I say.

I look around the room and for the first time notice that Esme and Rosalie are with us. They both look fairly distressed when they return my gaze. I must be an extremely sorry sight if those two are feeling bad for me. I soon find out that I'm not the one they're concerned about at all.

"I don't think our news is going to cheer you up," Alice tells me morosely. "At least I _hope_ it doesn't," she adds in a warning tone.

I sit up straighter. "Alice, what is it?"

She starts to answer, but her face crumples. She clamps her hand over her mouth and quickly turns away.

I look anxiously at Jasper, who tells me in a low monotone, "It's Bella. She's slipping rapidly into the newborn phase. It started when you all met in Alaska. Something in her snapped, and I wasn't able to moderate the ravenous bloodlust that consumed her. She became crazed, nearly uncontrollable. It's just like you said – the phase hit her late for some reason."

Alice has turned around and is able to speak now. "It's like she needed to be able to take care of the baby when she first became a vampire, so she was fine. But the more independent Renesmee gets, the more Bella slips away - as if nature gave her the stability she needed when she needed it, but now it's time to pay up."

"The baby!" I gasp. It has human blood coursing through it. Even for me, the thought of a mother devouring her own child is too chilling to imagine.

"The baby's fine," Rosalie answers. "She's upstairs sleeping now. Bella is herself enough to know not to harm her, but we could see the physical pain it caused to be near her. And it didn't seem right to make Renesmee watch her mother go through it. This whole thing is upsetting enough for us adults. I'm watching over the baby until Bella's better."

"So, how bad is she?" I ask.

Jasper answers. "When it first started, it took Emmett, Rosalie and I to pin her down and even with all three of us, we eventually started losing ground. Edward got here just in time. With him around, she's more manageable; he's the only one she'll halfway listen to."

"Poor Edward," Esme laments from across the room.

"Yeah," Alice says. "He's not doing so great himself. He's totally beating himself up over this. Not just because he's the one who brought her into this whole life, but also because it started when he was gone. He thinks if he hadn't left, this wouldn't have happened."

"Foolishness," Jasper practically spits. "Nothing could've stopped this from happening. None of us have that kind of self control. I kept telling them. But they didn't listen. Thought she had some kind of special gift and that they could just skip under a rainbow into fairyland. Everyone acted like I was just paranoid, but it turns out that _they_ were just naïve."

"You don't have to be so angry about it," Alice chides him. "We're all in this together, right?"

"Right," he huffs and then falls gloweringly silent.

"Anyhow," Alice says, "Edward's with her round the clock and the rest of us take shifts with him. Emmett and Carlisle are with them now. We're very careful where she hunts, and she's eating about four times as much as the rest of us. She's usually fairly stable right after feeding, so that's when we let her see Renesmee for a little while. But when we see the red start to burn in her eyes, we know she'll need to be restrained.

"We make Edward take a break from her for one hour a day, just for his own sanity, but I don't know what good it does him. Wait 'till you see him, Elie. He looks like shit."

"Alice," Esme says disapprovingly.

"Sorry," Alice mumbles. "He looks really, really bad."

"Any thoughts on how long this is going to last?" I ask.

"No," Alice answers. "Jasper and Emmett think that if we just let her eat a few humans, she'll come out of it faster. They've talked about breaking her into death row at a prison and letting her go nuts. I mean, I guess they're all going to die anyhow and maybe getting it all over with in a surprise attack like that is better than sitting around, waiting for it. I'm just not sure how Bella would feel about it later, you know? It doesn't really matter, though, because Edward forbids it. But I could see him changing his mind if this goes on too long or gets any worse."

My problems seem much smaller compared to all of this. So, in a way, their news does make me feel better. Don't tell Alice.

*****

The next day, I decide to be productive. I'm going to interview the werewolves. I get the idea when the nasty-smelling, dog boy from last time comes to pick up the baby in the afternoon. Apparently this is the routine – Bella hunts at night so she can see her daughter first thing in the morning, then Rosalie takes the baby for the rest of the morning, and after lunch, Jacob picks her up and entertains her for the afternoon.

I understand that this Jacob is good friends of the family and wants to help out, but I get the sense that something more is going on with him and the baby. Something strange. I ask more about Wolfy and find out that he's the leader of a pack comprising two other wolves, a brother/sister team. At least one of them patrols the Cullen property at all times. Jacob's pack is affiliated with a larger pack that protects the nearby La Push community. Protects it from vampires. They're only cool with the Cullens because they don't kill humans. Jacob's pack is helping to keep Bella in line so she doesn't blow the whole deal.

When I ask specifically about Jacob and Renesmee, the Cullens become suddenly interested in something else, like a tiny mote of dust floating through the air. Something weird is definitely going on. Looks like there's a lot for me to learn about these wolves. Learning makes me think of the archives. I get excited when I think about the possibility of adding information on non-vampire, human-based beings to our collection of knowledge. We already have the bones of the Carpathian Hill Witches, why not something on American werewolves? We could add a whole new vault! Wow, guess I've been bitten harder by B.I.T.E. than I realized if the thought of new research can seriously get me this excited.

As an added bonus, studying the wolves will help me pass my time here. The trouble will be finding a wolf who'll cooperate with me. This Jacob guy didn't even look at me when he came in today. He must still pissed about me being so mean to the baby last time. He can't be mad about anything I've done this time, because I was perfectly pleasant to the little tyke from the time Rosalie brought her in to the time he picked her up.

Everyone says Little Renesmee has grown at a tremendous rate compared to human children, but I wouldn't know the difference. My only interaction with human children in the past three hundred plus years has been to walk pointedly in the opposite direction, away from them. The Cullen baby's head still seems too small, but her proportions are normalizing as she grows, so she doesn't creep me out as much. I think I'll be okay with her - as long as she doesn't try to touch me.

Alice tells me that the brother in Jacob's pack is a rather eager pup named Seth. She's sure that he'll let me ask him a few questions and introduces us on her way down to relieve Esme with Edward and Bella. Seth is an overly-friendly boy, younger than Jacob. For werewolf purposes, he's larger than he's supposed to be, but he's much smaller than his enormous pack leader.

I'm disappointed. All I get out of Seth is that _it's way cool to bust into wolf form and tear through the forest, and sometimes it's a pain to have to listen to all of his sister's whining when they're sharing their wolf brains, and vampires are actually really nice when you get to know them, and even the ones who are supposed to be mean are really just old softies. _I consider teaching Seth a lesson on just how not-nice vampires can be – perhaps a severed paw would do the trick – but decide it's not worth the trouble. I wait patiently for him to finish his seemingly endless spew of drivel, and then thank him and quickly clear my mind of all the useless information he's given me. Except the sharing the brain thing. That was pretty cool.

I convince Seth to persuade his sister to let me interview her. It takes him a few days to get her to agree, and even then, she'll only do it in wolf form. I'm forced to wait in between questions and answers for Seth to transform back and forth between wolf and human so he can listen to her thoughts and then translate for me.

Seth's modesty further impedes our progress. When he transforms into a wolf, he gets huge, therefore, his clothes would bust right off of him. So he stands behind a big tree, takes his shorts of, transforms, waits for me to ask the question, listens to Leah's answer, transforms back into a human, pulls on his shorts, steps out from behind the tree, and tells me her answer. Then we do it all again. It's completely bogus. By the time he delivers her answer, I've forgotten what the question was. I express my discontent with the situation, and Seth, ever eager to please, assures me that he has a solution. I'm doubtful, but I agree to meet them back in the same spot the next day.

Leah is in dog form again the next day, but I swear that I see her eyes roll when Seth approaches, hitching an enormous pair of jeans up around his ribs. The jeans are big enough to stay on him when he's a wolf. I see where this is going, but I'm not sure it's going to work.

He transforms. The jeans stay on, but he yelps in pain. I'm guessing the zipper pinched in a sensitive area. He wriggles his hind legs, nods his furry head, and I ask my question. A few moments pass while Leah answers in silence, and then Seth transforms back, revealing the flaw in his plan – his hands don't transform any faster than the rest of him, so the pants slip to his knees before he can grab them. He makes for the tree and trips over the jeans, falling flat on his face. He scrambles behind the tree on all fours faster than I would have thought possible in his human form.

He pulls up his pants and steps out from behind the tree. He looks at me importantly, then his shoulders slump and his face falls. "Aw crud. I forgot what she said," he tells me.

Leah emits a low, disgusted growl. I try to exhibit some patience. The situation is clearly only good for one thing – to have a little fun.

"Seth, I think that we can make better use of your speed and agility. Can you handle a little free word association?"

"Sure, yeah," he agrees exuberantly.

"Great. Now, I'm going to need you to move swiftly between Leah and me. I'm going to say a single word, and I want you to pick up the very first word that pops into Leah's head and then transform immediately back to human form. I need you to shout out the word the moment you can, no hesitation. I'll be giving you another word right away, so you'll have to flash right back into a wolf."

Seth looks doubtful.

"Seth, I _know_ you can do this. Do you know you can do this?" I say encouragingly.

"Yes," he shouts, nodding furiously. "I can do it. I can totally do it."

"Let's do it," I say and flick a playful glance at Leah. I definitely see a devilish sparkle in those big, wolfy eyes.

Seth is now a wolf. The pants are still on. They don't stand a chance of staying anywhere close to up during this process.

"Puppy," I say.

Seth manages to grab his waistband in the nick of time as he turns quickly back into a human to give me Leah's answer. "Obnoxious," he shouts and then poof, he's a wolf again.

"Young," I say.

"Stupid," comes Leah's answer out of Seth's mouth.

"Naïve?" I say questioningly, trying to give poor Seth some credit.

"Stupid," comes back his sister's stubborn answer.

I've got Leah's read on her brother. I get the feeling she won't mind if I take the fun up a notch. As I expected, he's quickly forgotten entirely about the pants in the lightning fast process, and they lay in a heap at his paws. He's been moving quickly, but so do my senses. What would be nothing but a blur to a human is crystal clear to me. I see everything. _Everything_.

"Appendage," I say meaningfully, enunciating every syllable.

"Little," Seth shouts breathlessly, giving his sister's answer.

I choke back a laugh as I say, "Itty bitty."

"Teeny tiny!" shouts Seth, dangling in the wind right before changing back into a wolf.

I hadn't pre-planned my words. They're just sort of free flowing like Leah's. I'm saying the first thing that comes to my mind. The next word out of my mouth is, "Pathetic."

Leah's head ducks in what looks like a canine laugh and barks out loud when she mentally answers.

Seth comes back and shouts, "Seth!" At the sound of his own name, he pauses. I see his boy-brain clicking as he reflects back on the last few volleys of words. "Hey," he says slowly, looking between us. Then he looks down. "Hey!" he shouts and yanks the pants up in front of himself as he backs away. He gets behind the tree and fumbles the pants on and stalks away into the forest, protectively gripping the enormous pile of denim to himself.

As he disappears into the trees, we hear him grumble under his breath, "Way to boost my self esteem…bitches."

I shoot a sideways glance at Leah and say, "I get the feeling he's not going to be too keen on helping us again."

We bust out laughing. Leah's guffaws come in rasping barks and mine peel through the forest. The wild abandon of the laughter feels wonderful as it pushes out all the tension that had previously filled me. I let the laughter take me over and fall to my knees on the forest floor. Leah is on her back, literally howling in mirth. It seems she also needed an excuse to cut loose. When I'm capable of any type of movement other than shuddering with laughter, I crawl closer to Leah and hold up a hand. She slaps me a high five with her huge paw, and we laugh some more.

The snapping of twigs nearby catches my attention. I look up and see the newbie, Bella, standing about fifteen feet away, glaring at us. Her appearance is alarming. Her eyes had been red when I'd first met her, but now they are absolutely flaming. Her hair is so severely matted with snarls that it stands out a good six inches from her scalp. Her clothes are torn and she looks positively wild.

"Just great," she sneers. Her voice is a menacing hiss. "You two together. Best friends."

Whuh oh. We could be in trouble here. Newborns are extremely strong, and if she decides to, she'll be able to shred us to bits and serve us for dessert.

Edward suddenly appears at her side and gently grasps her elbows. "Bella, love, it's okay," he says soothingly. "They're just doing an interview. It's okay." He leads her away, but not before shooting Leah and me a warning glare.

I exhale in relief. Peering out into the forest, I spot Carlisle and Alice in opposite directions. They were at the ready to step in if necessary.

"Leah," I say tentatively, "Edward is really the only other one who can help us out if we're going to continue the interviews this way. He's obviously a little busy with other matters at the moment, and he hardly owes me any favors. So…would you consider doing an interview in human form?"

She's rolled over and is now sitting up. She holds completely still for a moment, and then slowly nods her head up and down.

"Awesome," I smile. "Is it okay if I call you at home some time to set something up?" She nods again, and then we depart. It's odd to feel like I want to be friends with anyone, much less a dog.

*****

Edward gets one hour a day away from his lunatic wife. One hour. He uses his hour the next day to search me out. I'm sitting on a bench at the edge of the Cullens' yard, looking out on the beautiful mist that has settled into the forest. I'm thinking about my last time in a forest with Gregorio. I'm suddenly surprised by Edward standing next to me. I didn't hear his approach.

"I need to speak to you for a moment, Elie."

"Have at it," I say.

"Look, Bella's going through a very rough time right now, and I'd appreciate it if you could go easy on her. You know, maybe not hang out with Leah anymore. It makes her paranoid."

I open my mouth to protest, but Edward cuts me off as he drops himself wearily onto the bench next to me. "I know, I know," he says. "It's not a big deal, but she's been complaining about it, and I just want to do anything I can to make things easier for her."

"You're not going to be able to make it easy for her, Edward," I say gently. "None of us had it easy, and we all survived. Maybe you just have to let her go through this without the Edward safety net."

He pulls his hands through his hair and then exhales a gust of air as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. He stares at the ground for a long time. I feel extremely awkward watching him go through this mental torture. I want to get away, but how bad would that be for me to leave him alone like this? Then again, maybe that's what he wants. I'm about to get up, when he starts talking.

"I didn't want her to become a vampire. I was dead set against it from the beginning. But everyone else, including Carlisle, seemed to think that it was fine. That this was the way things were supposed to be for her. I didn't believe that. I thought she should live out her human life. I was firm on that. But I guess after a while, I stopped listening to myself and started listening to them. I let myself be convinced, because that's what I wanted for myself. I stopped thinking about what was best for her.

"And then the whole thing with Renesmee. The pregnancy was killing her, and I watched her die a little bit every day. It was no longer a question to me of whether or not I would change her. It was the only way I was going to keep her, so of course I was going to do it. And then afterwards, everything came so easily to her, and she was having so much fun with it. It was like we were on another honeymoon, and I didn't have any doubts that I'd done the right thing.

"But now…now it's like all my nightmares are coming true. She's going to suffer. I can see that, and you're right; I just have to let her suffer. But she wouldn't have to go through this if I hadn't been so selfish, hadn't changed her…hadn't married her in the first place." His head hangs down further, and his shoulders slump. His normally smooth, flowing voice is dry and brittle.

Edward's raw misery is all too reminiscent of how I felt, how I still feel sometimes, about what I did to Kristoph. Edward knows that story. I've never told him out loud, but I know he's been able to read it on my mind since my wall came crashing down, sparing me the need to say the words. Sometimes this mind-reading thing comes in very handy.

I put a hand flat on Edward's back and begin moving it slowly back and forth, like a mother would for a troubled child. In a low voice, I tell him, "You did better than me Edward. I wasn't disciplined enough to stop …"

He turns his miserable head toward me and says quietly, "But you think he's better off dead, rather than trapped here. I know you believe that transformation is wrong under any circumstances."

Of course I wouldn't be able to hide that minor detail from him. I study his face now that it's turned toward me. I can see the shadows creeping under his pitch-black eyes. He hasn't been feeding. He's punishing himself. He thinks he deserves this torture that he's putting himself through. I know exactly how he feels.

My hand begins moving up and down his back. I want to reach in through his flesh and wrap my arms around his still, silent heart and make it feel better. My desire to help Edward has very little to do with our previous, tenuous relationship. It has a lot to do with a pathetic vampire lying helpless in a field, wanting to be erased from existence.

I think of Father Pawel and what he did for me. What would he advise me to say right now? I try to channel him and his God for guidance on what to say to Edward. Without much thinking, I begin to speak.

"What's done is done, Edward. You can't change it. You can torture yourself over it for the rest of your days, but you can't change it. You need to forgive yourself, and you need to do right by Bella. Wallowing in your self-deprecation and misery is not going to help her. She needs you strong; she needs you happy. You have to forgive yourself. '_Take away the awful stain of my transgression. Oh, wash me, cleanse me from this guilt. Let me be pure again. Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.*'"_

"I've noticed you thinking that before," Edward says. "What is it?"

"It's a psalm. In the Bible. I've found it tremendously helpful whenever I've been having a hard time."

Edward nods his head slightly, and I think I might see a tiny glow of hope in his eyes. "Your friend sounds like a wonderful man," he tells me.

I know he is talking about Father Pawel. My eyes sting in the place from where tears would spring if I were human. I miss Pawel. It's been too long since I've seen him. I'm grateful to Edward for the comment; it's nice to know that someone in this mythical world besides me can appreciate him. I look down at Edward and watch a new, dark cloud roll into his beautiful eyes.

He snaps his head again to the ground and says in a harsh whisper, "There's something else." His voice is grave. It becomes desperate as he wrings his hands, cracking his knuckles, and says, "Elie, this _has_ to be between you and me only. I will not speak of it to anyone else. Can you promise me that you won't either?"

"Of course," I tell him. He reads my mind and knows that I'm sincere in my promise.

"I miss her," he whispers so slightly that I almost don't catch it. There was more pain uttered in these simple words than in anything else he's said so far.

"It's okay," I tell him. "She's going to get through this. You'll get her back."

"No," he says in anguish. "I miss human Bella."

This is ominous. Human Bella isn't coming back. I don't say anything. I don't know what to say.

"I know it's a hideous thing for me to say, because she transformed for me. She's done all of this for me. And at first I didn't even think about it. She'd been so sick with the pregnancy, and I was just so happy to have her up and moving again and knowing that she wasn't going to die that I didn't even think about it. It was such a relief to finally not have to worry about her any more. And it was fun having her as a vampire with me. We shared things and did things together that she wasn't able to experience as a human, and it was wonderful. But after a while, even before this change started happening to her, I did start thinking about it. About her. About the Bella I fell in love with.

"She was so remarkably clumsy and always so embarrassed about it. Her face was almost constantly red with blushing," he says wistfully. "I miss that. And she was so, so warm and soft, the softest thing I'd ever touched. I miss watching her sleep. For hours on end, I'd just watch her sleep. She'd dream about me. And, of course, there was her scent…it nearly drove me insane with the desire to drink her, but at the same time, it drove me insane with the desire to just hold her, protect her.

"I can't believe that I even miss that heinous, old, rusty, red truck that she used to drive. She loved that nasty thing. I constantly teased her about it, but really, I loved that she loved it. Then I took that away from her and replaced it with a shiny, new Ferrari. The Ferrari isn't my Bella. That old, red truck was Bella, and I took that away from her. I took everything that was Bella away."

My hand has been rubbing his wretched back as he's reminisced, and I'm stroking his far shoulder. In the silence that follows Edward's confession, I lean forward to rest my chin on his other shoulder. I'm sort of bracing him for what I'm about to say.

"Well, Edward, there's two ways you can look at this. First – you're absolutely correct in thinking that you're a total bastard. She changed into a vampire because she loved you and wanted to be with you, and you went ahead and changed her, and now you resent that she's different? You're pining away for old Bella like she's another woman – that's basically cheating on your wife, Edward. I mean, what the hell? You've moved beyond little prick, Eddie; you're full-fledged asshole."

Edward straightens up, jerking my head and hand off of him, and whips his glaring face toward me.

"Hey, _you_ wanted to talk about it, and you should've known that I would give it you straight," I say defensively.

He grits his teeth together and growls, "You said there was _another_ way to look at this?"

"Uh huh. The other way is this – it really is okay. People change. It's okay to look back on the good old days and long for them. I mean, I'm hardly the same vampire I was two hundred years ago when I first knew Carlisle. Hell, I'm hardly the same vampire I was two months ago. So even if Bella had stayed a human, she would have changed. Not quite so dramatically, so quickly, but she would have grown up. Maybe gotten a bit more graceful, or at least less embarrassed about her klutziness.

"I mean, say a man marries his college sweetheart – she's carefree, she's totally gaga for him, she's got a nice, firm ass. Twenty years, two point five kids, and one suffocating mortgage later, she's not so carefree, not so gaga, not so firm. He probably looks back and thinks about the twenty-something girl he married once in a while, but he still loves her now. Maybe the looking back actually helps him love her a little more. I don't know. But people change even if you don't transform them into vampires."

Edward's glare turns thoughtful as he considers what I've said. He looks forward and turns his shoulder pointedly back to where it was, indicating that I'm welcome to rest my chin there again. I do. More words come to me, and I say them.

"You remember her smell, right?" I ask.

"It's imprinted in my brain cells," he murmurs.

"Then it isn't gone, is it? And you said she always dreamed about you – so now it's like she's dreaming all the time because she has you." I think for a moment and then add, "I think you should get her that red truck back, though, or something like it. It'd be a nice gesture to let her know that you appreciate her individuality. Help her to know that you don't expect _everything_ to change in her life.

"And if you're looking for something to do with the Ferrari, I'm sure Gregorio would look absolutely devastating behind the wheel."

Edward turns to me with a shrewd look, "With you sitting right next to him, no doubt."

"No doubt," I smile.

His look turns to one of sincerity. "Thanks, El. You've put some things in perspective for me. I think I might actually feel a little better."

I stare blankly at him. No one's ever accused me of making them feel better before.

Edward reads my mind and gives me a small, mocking smile. "Elie, Jasper's got nothing on you," he teases.

"Oh, Lord," I complain, rolling my eyes. I pull away and rumple Edward's already rumpled hair and whisper, "Get her that truck." Then I get up. As I walk away, I remark ruefully, "Gregorio better call me back to Romania soon. I'm going much too soft in this misty wonderland."


	18. Trust Issues

Chapter 18

Trust Issues

I decide not to call Leah right away. I can at least show a modicum of respect for this family that is sheltering me during my fugitive state. I find something new to distract me. I've been wondering how Gregorio is doing with his vegan diet. It's not something we took the time to discuss last time we were together, and we haven't talked since. I wouldn't blame him if he slacked during these stressful times – he picked a bad week to give up humans – but he's not a man who easily admits defeat, so I'm sure he's struggling either way.

I've been racking my brain for a way to offer better support to him and others like him as they adjust to their new lifestyle. One day the answer quite literally smacks me in the face. Alice and I have taken a daytrip to Olympia, the state capital, to go sightseeing and shopping. I've just purchased a pair of supple, black, leather pants that look amazing on me, and Alice and I are standing outside a tattoo parlor, lamenting the fact that their process would never work on our stony skin. A pale, yellow flyer detaches from the window and blows on the moist wind straight into my face.

I pull the thing off and read it. It's a flyer reminding anyone who cares that the weekly Alcoholics Anonymous meeting will be held in a local church basement that Wednesday. '_All are welcome,_' it says. I'm transfixed by it.

"Drinking problem, Elie?" Alice teases.

"As a matter of fact…if things go our way, there's going to be a whole bunch of us with a drinking problem, aren't there."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Just an idea. I'll let you know if anything comes of it," I say, folding the paper and tucking it into my back pocket.

Back at the house, I borrow Emmett's laptop and Google 'Alcoholics Anonymous twelve steps.' I've heard about these before. They're twelve steps that addicts follow to help them fight their addiction. Isn't that precisely what human blood is to vampires – an addiction? These steps are supposed to be very effective. Maybe this is what I've been looking for.

I read over all twelve steps. I can't help but notice that I've unwittingly worked through some of them myself. Especially the first few, which all have to do with God: accept a power greater than ourselves, check; fess up to the exact nature of our sins, check; ask forgiveness of these shortcomings, check. I'd always thought of this God as Father Pawel's God, but I suddenly realize that he's my God too. He sent Father Pawel through the field to me that day. He's been with me this whole time. How else could I have gotten through it all? I smile. I like having a God.

The later steps are a bit dicier. Number eight says to make a list of all persons we have harmed, and be willing to make amends to them all. Yikes. That could take forever. Besides, most of them are dead. Ten's not any better – promptly admit whenever we are wrong. Yeah, right. Still, I make note of them. They could be helpful to other vampires. I can't deny that the steps I have followed have helped me tremendously. Surely this could be translated into a program for vampires. I need to learn more about the steps. See how they work in real life. I'm going to that meeting. I pull the paper out of my pocket. The meeting's tomorrow.

The next night, I dress incognito – it's supposed to be _anonymous_, right? I put on baggy jeans and an oversized flannel shirt and top it off with a baseball hat. I exit the bathroom and go downstairs and call out goodbye on my way out. Emmett's watching baseball on the TV in the front room. He turns from the game as I reach the front door.

"How do you do that?" he asks.

"Do what?"

"Wear a big, sloppy shirt and a baseball hat and still look so hot?"

"I take it Rosalie is out," I say.

"Yup," he grins.

"Bye, Emmett."

"Bye, hot-girl-who-desperatley-wishes-I-was-single-so-she-could-do-me-right-now."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself to get through the day, Emmett," I sigh, rolling my eyes as I walk out the door.

The meeting is interesting and eye-opening. The underlying philosophy of AA is that by sharing and listening to others' experiences, addicts can better understand and accept their challenges. They learn from each other. I tried to accomplish the same thing with the testimonials I included in my book. Sitting face to face with these people and listening to them spill their guts is a very powerful thing. I wonder if I'd be able to tell my story to a group of strangers. I'm not sure. I stay silent at the meeting, but somehow walk away feeling strangely bonded to the people there.

On my way back to Forks, I think about the possibility of organizing support groups like this for vampires. We'll be much more spread out geographically, but we can also travel faster than humans, so maybe regional meetings will be possible.

I'm starting to realize that there are a multitude of resources out there that have nothing to do with B.I.T.E. Maybe I've gotten everything I can from my Romanian brethren, and its time to move on. I don't really need them anymore, and they may not want me. Maybe this is the perfect time to cut the ties. Make a clean break. I start to feel weightless, like an oppressive blanket has been lifted from me. Then an iron anchor attaches to my ankle and pulls me down.

Gregorio.

B.I.T.E. was pretty much his entire life before I came along. His ties wouldn't be so easily severed. Would he even be willing to sever them if it came down to it? What if I left B.I.T.E., and he was forced to choose between us? Which would he choose?

Is that really such a difficult question to answer? Let's see – who's he with right now? Not me. And during our fight in Greenland, he certainly seemed to choose B.I.T.E. Of course, I realize that he's in Romania right now looking out for _my_ interests, and that in the end he realized he was wrong in Greenland and came walking after _me_, but he's never risked his standing at B.I.T.E. along the way. He's always there for me as long as he can smooth things over with the organization first. Like when he took three days to set things up for Siberia before disappearing with me. Like when he convinced me that we need to keep our relationship a secret. Wouldn't want to ruffle any B.I.T.E. feathers.

He wants it both ways. He wants it all. But what if one day he actually has to choose?

Ugh. Why am I doing this to myself? Why can't I just be happy knowing that he's crazy in love with me, and I'm crazy in love with him? Why isn't that enough? Why do I torture myself with hypotheticals? I wish he was here. If he was here, I could look him in his soft, dark eyes and hold him and feel his love and not scare myself by thinking up scenarios that haven't even happened yet. _If_ he was here. Which he's not. He's in Romania. With B.I.T.E. Ugh.

I'm not doing this! I've second guessed him before and nearly thrown him away. I love him. Nothing's going change that, so I may as well trust him – with everything – or this isn't going to work. And I want it to work. I need it to work. So that's it. No more doubts.

I've reached the Cullens' house. I walk in to find Alice, Jasper, Carlisle and Rosalie. They all look at me strangely when I walk in.

"What?" I ask.

All heads turn toward Alice, who bites her lip.

"What," I demand more forcefully. She's seen something. She's finally fricking seen something, and she doesn't want to tell me what it was.

"I had a vision of you with Gregorio," she says and stops. She doesn't look directly at me.

"And--" I prompt. Her reluctance seems rather ominous.

Alice hesitates.

I'm getting pissed.

"Give it to her straight, hun," Jasper tells her, picking up on my impatience.

Alice gives it to me straight. "Well, it was just a quick flash of you and Gregorio and another vampire, an older man – salt and pepper hair, good looking."

"Viktor," I murmur.

"Yes, I believe so," Carlisle says.

"You're in a plain, grey room with a long table,"

"A conference room at headquarters," I explain.

Alice doesn't say anything else.

"Is that it?" I ask, knowing that it isn't.

Alice shakes her head. "The older gentleman is standing in front of you, looking down with a scowl. He looks angry; his eyes are flashing. And you…you're kneeling and bent prostrate on the ground in front of him."

"Kneeling? Am I groveling?"

Alice shrugs her shoulders and looks down to the ground. "I think so," she says.

"What about Gregorio? What's he doing?" I can't imagine him groveling. I'm not sure I can even handle hearing Alice say it.

"He's standing behind Viktor...…he's smiling," she says, finally looking up at me with a pained expression, as if it's hurting her to tell me.

"Smiling?" I say. "You mean like a grimace, like this?" I say and screw my face into the awful, strained kind of smile Gregorio tried to give me when he told me he was moving to Siberia.

"No," Alice says, shaking her head mournfully. "It was more like this," she says and her eyes light up. Half her mouth curves upward just before the other side joins it, as if she'd tried to fight a smile and lost. I've seen Gregorio do that a hundred times. He's really smiling. But why?

"Well, what was he looking at?" I ask, hoping that maybe there's a small monkey in the room, banging tiny, little cymbals.

"He was looking at you," Alice says regretfully.

"Me?" I'm dumbfounded. He's smiling at me groveling to Viktor? This doesn't make any sense. My mind races for an explanation. "Is he putting on show for someone?" I muse aloud.

Alice again shakes her spiky head. "Viktor's the only other person in the room, and his attention is all on you. Besides, Gregorio is behind him."

I'm starting to shake my head slowly from side to side. "There are glass walls in the conference rooms. There's no privacy. You never know who'll come along and peep in. He's probably covering his ass just in case," I offer.

"Yeah, maybe," Alice says doubtfully.

I'm not convinced either, but I just vowed to trust Gregorio, so I'm going to assume that there's some reasonable explanation for the scene Alice just envisioned.

"Do you know when it happens?" I ask in a suddenly dry voice.

"No, it was just a quick flash, and that's all I got."

I nod absently and ask, "Any new visions of any of you? Any danger?"

"No," Alice says almost apologetically.

"Good, good," I nod. I mean it, but I still sound like a zombie when I say it. "I'm going to go out for something to eat. My throat's parched."

"Okay," Alice says gently. Everyone else looks at me way too kindly as I step outside.

I don't think about it. I think about catching an owl, surprising him and catching him before he can fly off. I think about sinking my teeth through his downy feathers. Catching an owl at night should prove enough of a challenge to keep my mind occupied. I'm not going to think about what Alice just told me. No more second guessing. Trust. No doubt. No doubt. No doubt.

*****

Every day I ask Alice if she's seen anything new. Every day she says, '_No_.' Her visions don't always come true. They change as circumstances change. I want her to see something new that will completely discount that last vision. I'm sure it's going to change. Probably just a fluke, anyhow.

I've got to keep busy.

I work furiously on adapting the twelve steps for vampire use. The next AA meeting is tomorrow already. Another week has gone by. I haven't heard a thing from Gregorio. He made me get rid of my phone entirely in Paris, just in case B.I.T.E. had tampered with it, so I knew communication would be sparse, but ever since Alice's vision, I'm desperate to hear his voice. I think I'll go to that AA meeting, see how Sabrina's new job is going.

I call Leah. It would probably be rude not to follow up with her at all.

"Hello, may I please speak to Leah?"

"This is her."

"Sorry, didn't recognize you without Seth translating."

"Oh hi, Elie," she says, her voice warming.

"Hi. Look, sorry about not calling sooner. Edward had a little talk with me after last time, and he thinks it's best for Bella if we don't hang out."

"Yeah, I got the same lecture from Jacob. He's forbidden me to talk to you. He's also mad about our joke on Seth. He thinks I '_betrayed a pack member for a foreign bloodsucker_.' Plus, he hates you."

"Right," I say and pause awkwardly.

"So…when do you want to get together?" Leah asks brightly.

I laugh. I like this girl. I like her a lot.

"I thought Seth told me that you had to obey a direct order from the pack leader," I say.

"Only when they use this special mind thing. Jake's a pussy about invoking it. His orders are more like strong suggestions. I do what I want."

I love this girl.

I take a second to think. Why not meet with her? As long as we go somewhere that Bella won't see us, it shouldn't make any difference to Edward.

"I have a thing in Olympia tomorrow night," I say. "Would you be up for meeting me in the city for coffee afterwards? You can drink it, and I can smell it."

"Sure," she says. "I have something I've been wanting to do in Olympia, anyhow."

"Great," I say and we set plans to meet at a coffee house around the corner from my meeting. She agrees not to transform into a wolf again until after we meet, and I agree to avoid Edward; that way, they won't be able to read our minds until it's too late.

*****

Sabrina's job is going well. There's a cute guy in the office, but she's not ready to date. I pick up a few points at the meeting that will help me polish off the twelve steps for veggie vampires. The meeting ends, and I wait for Leah at the coffee shop. The beans smell magnificent.

I've never seen Leah in her human form before. I know I'm looking for a dark haired, ruddy-skinned girl from the Quileute tribe that resides in La Push, but I'm unprepared for the stunning beauty that plops down in the chair across form me. Leah, of course, knows exactly what I look like, although the baseball cap seems to have thrown her.

Her hair is cropped short to keep her wolf fur manageable when she transforms. It hangs loose around her face in a darling bob that highlights her high, sharp cheekbones and captivating, chocolate brown eyes. She's not bulky like the wolf boys, but she's not stick thin like most vampire women I know either. She's healthy and athletic-looking. She's got curves.

"Leah, you're gorgeous!" I gush admiringly.

She exhales a small, embarrassed snort and looks down as if not used to being complimented. Come on – how could she not be fielding amorous praise from guys all the time? I'm a straight vampire, and I almost want to make a play for her.

I don't want to embarrass Leah more, so we get down to business. We sit far from the other customers in the sparsely populated coffee house and speak low, so that no one can overhear our conversation. I'm sure they'd probably just think we were tripping on something if they could hear.

Leah tells me the legend and the truth behind the La Push werewolves. They are completely different from cold-blooded, European werewolves. The current pack seems particularly soft-hearted. Leah willingly outlines the history of their relationship with the Cullens, but when I ask about Jacob and Renesmee, she clams up just like everyone else. I try to push her on it, but she balks.

"You must respect my need to keep some things secret," she says.

"Of course," I tell her.

"Besides," she says with a wry smile. "There are some things you really don't want to know."

I nod. I know what she's talking about. For example, I wish I didn't know about Alice's blasted vision. I wish she'd never had it, and I wish she'd never told me about it. It doesn't do me a damned bit of good knowing about it, since I don't know what it means. Except buried deep in my consciousness, I do know what it means – it means that Gregorio is going to be forced to make a choice, and he chooses B.I.T.E. Unless Alice misread something. I'm sure she must have.

Next I ask Leah about the future of the wolves. This is very interesting. They actually have a chance of becoming fully human again. When they are no longer needed to protect against vampires, they can change back. This is what Leah wants to do. She's an abnormality, being the first known female werewolf, and she hasn't gracefully adjusted to the lifestyle. She hates it. She knows about our plans to convert vampires to a more peaceful existence and hopes it will lead to the need for fewer werewolves in La Push.

Her eyes light up when she tells me why she came to Olympia today. She's looking into college. If she can ever break free of the wolves, she wants to move into a dorm or small apartment near campus and study art history at the state college. I see by her wide eyes that moving to Olympia and leaving the La Push community behind is a big, big deal for her. A brave thing to do. I hope she does it. I hope she moves to Olympia and goes to college. Yet another reason to push forward with the cause. Whatever the cost.

We finish the interview and part at the coffee shop. I tell her thanks, and I tell her how glad I am to have met her, but I don't say anything stupid like, _'Let's keep in touch.'_ I'll be leaving soon, and the chances of a vampire from Eastern Europe and a werewolf from the Pacific Northwest keeping in touch are not good.

I pit stop in the Olympic mountains on my way back. I catch bigger game than I've had in a while, but the owls continue to elude me. I park the van in the Cullens' driveway just as dawn is starting to break and head out to walk around their forest a bit. I tell myself it's because the approaching daylight might slow the owls down just enough, but I know that I'm really only delaying my return to the house. I don't want to hear Alice say 'no' again. Maybe if I don't appear too eager, I can force a vision – a reversal of the watching-the-pot-boil theory.

In the distance, through the deep purple haze and trees, I see Edward and Bella's small, stone cottage. I stop. I don't want to go anywhere near there. But something's different. It makes me stop and look a bit longer. I can see Edward and Bella in the main room through a window. Neither of them looks tense. Far from it. He is brushing her long hair, getting out the snarls. Her long, silky tendrils fall from the brush as he pulls it through. Her eyes are still two red dots, but they don't appear to be flaming. Her face is relaxed, peaceful. She may even be wearing a small, tranquil smile; it's hard to tell from this distance.

I should leave and stop watching, but something intrigues me about the scene. Besides, how many times has Edward tapped into my intimate moments by reading my mind? I stay and watch. And listen. In the quiet of the morning, I can hear Edward humming softly to his wife while he brushes her hair. She leans in and whispers something to him that I can't make out. He smiles. She laughs. He laughs.

What was it Gregorio once said to me – _'It all starts with a laugh.'_ Those two crazy kids are going to be alright.

I leave. I pass Rosalie on her way to the little house with Renesmee.

"Is Alice in?" I ask.

"Uh huh," Rosalie answers while the baby rubs the sleep out of her eyes.

I dash into the house and ask Alice if she's seen anything new. She hasn't.


	19. Choices

Chapter 19

Choices

For the first time in a long while, all nine Cullens are together in the same room. Bella has had a couple of good days, and she's spending her Renesemee time at the big house with the rest of the family. The mood is the most jovial I've seen it since I've been here. Jasper can finally relax.

Renesmee and Edward are entertaining us with a lively duet on the piano. The baby savant is sitting on her mother's lap next to her father. I'm thinking about slipping outside. The Cullens have been more than hospitable, but I'm not part of the family, and I don't belong in this scene. I don't know where I belong. Besides, the song is way too peppy. It's starting to get on my nerves.

Before I can make my move, Carlisle's phone rings. He steps into the other room, speaking quietly and returns after a couple of minutes. His eyes fix on me while he continues talking into the phone.

"Oh, the pleasure was all mine, Viktor. Let me get Elie for you." Carlisle says.

The piano music tinkers on. Edward, Bella and Renesmee are oblivious to my special circumstances, but six other anxious faces watch me as I take the phone.

"Hello Viktor," I say with false cheerfulness.

"Beta, good to finally hear your voice," he says silkily.

"Yes, Viktor, same here."

"You're a difficult woman to track down, Beta."

"Good," I say, trying to give a normal, Elieish response.

Viktor chuckles, then delivers his ultimatum. "I need you home, Beta. We have something very important to discuss. When can I expect you?"

"There's only a few flights a day out of Seattle Tacoma International. The earliest I could hope to be back is mid-afternoon tomorrow."

"Perfect. I'll see you then."

Gulp. "I look forward to it," I say, and we hang up.

Nobody says anything. The music has stopped. The musicians have picked up on the strain in the room. I don't know what I'm going to do. What does this mean? I need to get in touch with Gregorio. I'm about to ask Carlisle if I can use his phone, when it buzzes with a text message. He takes it from me, looks at the screen, and says, "I believe this is yours."

I grab the phone and read it. It's a single word. Not signed. It's from Gregorio.

'_Come_.'

That's all it says. _Come._

I'm going to Romania.

I start gathering my things. I didn't bring that much, so it amazes me how widely dispersed my stuff is throughout the large house. Alice helps me, shooting me odd looks the whole time. I hope she doesn't say it.

I have everything, and I zip my backpack shut. Emmett's booked me a seat on the 2:55 flight, so I'm all set to go. Just before I say my goodbyes, Alice says it. She blurts it out, like she couldn't stop herself.

"What if this is a set up? What if Gregorio is deceiving you?" Alice says with a small amount of hysteria building in her voice.

My head jerks toward her. I know it's what we've all been thinking, but this is the first time any of us has said it out loud. I see in Alice's concern that this is what she believes is happening. She's the only one who's seen the vision. She'd know better than anyone. If my body was capable of manufacturing tears, my eyes would be swimming in them. As it is, I turn my dry, tortured eyes away from her as I answer in a choked whisper.

"Then I'd want to die, and I'll welcome any punishment Viktor decides to give me." I say simply. It's true. If I find out that the loyalty Gregorio pledged to me in that forest in Alaska has so quickly dissolved, something inside me will die. That man has quickly become as important to me as my own life, or undead existence, or whatever this is.

Every adult head in the room nods in somber agreement. They know exactly what I mean. They're all with their mates, and if one of them deceived the other, their worlds would be shattered. I envy them at this moment. They all have what I don't seem to be able to hold and keep for very long.

*****

I only manage a half-hearted, "Come sta?" to Vladimir and Stefan as I pass them on my way through the ruins to the headquarters entrance. They stiffly ignore me as usual. Jump down, breath on stone, walk through the long, frigid corridor into reception.

Nicole (yep, same Nicole) says, "Viktor's waiting for you in Conference Room B." As if the whole uncertain return to Romania wasn't already feeling unpleasantly familiar enough - did it have to be _B_?

I turn into Conference Room B. Viktor is in there. With Gregorio. This time the Italian is the first thing I notice. The sight of his tall, impeccable figure and his dark waves smoothed back from his chiseled, ivory features makes my immobile heart leap. But it's that tiny, silvery white bump of a scar, cutting into the red of his mouth that sends goose bumps running up my arms. Even though everyone else in the world is perfectly able to see it, I somehow think of that scar as belonging to me. Only me.

I give Gregorio a hard look before turning my attention over to Viktor. Gregorio returns my gaze steadily, if emotionlessly. I take this as a good sign. He surely wouldn't be able to look me in the eye if he was about to do me in.

As I flick my eyes to Viktor, I notice that the lighting in the room is rather dim. The blinds on the glass wall to the corridor are closed tight, and Viktor has motioned for me to shut the door behind me. No one can see in.

"Beta," Viktor says warmly, coming over to take my hands.

"Viktor," I say with equal warmth. I'm not entirely faking. He can be an evil bastard, but I can't deny the innate affinity I feel toward him. It's strangely good to see him.

"You've been a busy girl," he says, tilting his head and examining me. "I began to fear we'd lost you to the world again."

"Viktor," I say with feigned impatience. "Haven't we been through all this before?"

He smiles an imperious smile and places his hand along the side of my face, cupping my jaw. "You can't blame me for missing you. Now tell me, what were you doing at the Cullens? Are you planning a sequel to your book?"

"Actually, my research there had nothing to do with vampire diet," I say easily. I'd prepared myself for this question. "Their newest member is experiencing a delayed reaction to her transformation. She could potentially yield new data for our existing research in this area. And have you heard of the werewolves they've befriended? They're fascinating, and I was able to interview two of them. If you have time later, I'd like to discuss an idea I have for an expansion of the archives."

"Oh," Viktor says, looking slightly disappointed. "I had rather though veganism was a specialty of yours." He drops his hand from my face. "I'm surprised you'd give up on it so easily." He gives me a piercing look with his marbled eyes, like he's trying to look through my very flesh to see what I'm thinking.

"I'm here to serve B.I.T.E., Viktor," I say quickly. "Wherever I see information that can benefit the organization, I go."

He chuckles. "Always such pretty words, Beta. Half the time, I actually believe you." He sighs and keeps his gaze locked on my face, gauging my every reaction. "I've read your book," he says. His eyes flick over my features, looking for a note of surprise or dismay.

"I hope you enjoyed it," I say, trying not to let my voice shake.

"It was more than an informational study, Beta. It was virtually an instruction manual for the vegan lifestyle. Why, at one point, you practically had me considering it."

I'm having trouble keeping eye contact with him. I see where this train wreck is headed, and I'm starting to panic. Viktor turns his hand to trail the back of his fingers along my cheek, beckoning my eyes up to his. I stare into the cold black and gold. All of my energy goes toward fighting the snarl that wants to curl my lip. I inwardly recoil at his silky touch and the gentle, fatherly look he's trying to give me. A father would never do this to his child.

"My dear girl," he purrs. "I've reviewed all of your work while you've been gone. Everything you've done since your return to B.I.T.E. You're not fooling us anymore."

Oh shit. Oh shit! This is really happening, and Gregorio is not doing anything to stop it. He's not stepping in. Is he smiling right now? I can't bring myself to steal a glance at him. As long as I don't see him smiling, he's not. Until I know for sure that I've lost Gregorio, I'm ruled by my instinct for self preservation. How am I going to get out of this? Running will do me no good. Viktor will have me before I make it to reception. I already know what I have to do. Alice told me. I'm going to grovel. It won't change Viktor's mind, but it will buy me time to figure something out.

I drop to my knees. The only thing that feels good about it is that Viktor is no longer touching me. Why isn't Gregorio doing anything? Or is he doing something? Is he smiling? Is he really smiling? I can't look. I bend prostrate to the ground and search for the words that will carry weight with Viktor.

"Beta, what are you doing?" Viktor asks irritably. His voice has lost all of its greasy smoothness. His uncharacteristically nonplussed tone throws me. I don't move until he commands, "Beta!"

My head snaps up. Viktor's eyes flash with irritation. I inadvertently catch a glimpse of Gregorio on my way up. He's biting back a smile. I give him a second glance. He's recomposed his face, but his eyes still dance with amusement. What the hell is going on?

"Good God, Beta. I'm trying to give you a promotion and you're on the floor…on the floor…what is it exactly you're doing on the floor?" Viktor demands.

A promotion? Is he serious? How was I supposed to get _that_ out of all of his rigamarole? While these questions are bouncing around in my head, Viktor is waiting for an explanation of my behavior.

"I…uh…my earring. I dropped an earring. They're my favorites," I shrug, sitting back on my feet and looking sheepishly up at Viktor.

"How many ears do you have?" he asks sharply. "You're wearing two earrings."

"Really" I say, reaching my hands up to my ears. "That's weird." I try to chuckle while I steal another surreptitious glance at Gregorio. He's ever so slightly shaking his head at my pathetic attempt at nonchalance.

Viktor holds a hand out to me. I take it and pull myself up. As I do so, Viktor keeps his eyes on me, but turns his head and says over his shoulder to Gregorio, "You're going to have your hands full with this one."

What's that supposed to mean? Did Gregorio tell him about us? My hopeful glance is answered by a warning flash in Gregorio's dark eyes. He's still keeping that a secret. I'm going to stop surmising. I'm getting everything wrong.

"What's this about a promotion?" I ask, sticking to what I know I heard.

"As I was _saying,_" Viktor says somewhat impatiently, "You have been holding out on me. You've always downplayed your research, but a closer look reveals that your work here has been nothing short of superb. You've obviously given your heart and soul, so to speak, to B.I.T.E. That type of dedication deserves to be rewarded.

"Things are changing around here, Beta, just as things are changing in the world around us. It's all happening under the surface, so you may not be aware of it. You see, our friends in Italy have fallen decidedly out of favor in the wider community. Sympathy runs high among vampires for innocents who are finally standing up to that elite organization, such as your American research subjects as well as others.

"This all puts us at B.I.T.E. in a rather precarious position. We've maintained a healthy working relationship with the Volturi since before you were born, but have always been careful to keep a distinction between our two organizations in the public eye. Now it appears we're being forced to make a choice – align with the Volturi in a very public way or sever all ties. It's an extremely difficult decision to make, and it has weighed heavily on me for these past months. Each day seemed to point in a different direction.

"I foolishly left my trusted friend Gregorio here out of the loop for too long. I was afraid that his ties to both organizations would cloud his judgment and keep him from being objective. It was a mistake I will not make again," he says, turning and planting an admiring hand on Gregorio's shoulder. "His counsel has been invaluable, and he's proven himself to be able to think quickly and clearly in any circumstances."

Gregorio's soft, black eyes seem almost humble as they peer out at me from under his half-lowered, lush eyelashes. Seeing him like this and hearing the praise that Viktor is heaping on him makes me tingle in places that have rarely tingled before. I'm entranced by Gregorio, but I still listen raptly to every word Viktor says.

"Together, the top level of B.I.T.E. and the next generation of leadership," he says, giving Gregorio's shoulder a firm shake, "have devised a brilliant plan. On the surface, it will look as if we're supporting the Volturi as usual – we've already helped them quash scattered, irrational uprisings – but in the background, we'll be working to discredit their authority, replacing it with ours. Our kind needs leadership, after all, or everything's up for grabs. It's become clear that the Votluri's rein has run its course. It is now our duty as Romanians, original royalty of the vampiring world, to quietly step back into power.

"Our master plan has many legs. The one that concerns you – and the only one you need to know about – requires you to continue on with your work in the area of non-human consumption. I realize that you're eager to move on to new things, but I believe you will find what we have planned for your current field of study very exciting. We're taking it beyond the level of standard research. We want you to go out and encourage vampires around the world to try out the vegan lifestyle.

"We think B.I.T.E. should become proactive in this area for a few reasons. First of all, doing so would clearly separate us from the Volturi; veganism among vampires is something they've strenuously objected to over the years. It's a way to discreetly encourage vampires to thumb their nose at the Volturi. Secondly, such a move will prove that our research has real life applications, show that it's not just a pile of papers collecting dust. It will passively assert our importance to the vampiring world. Lastly, directing vampires toward a path of peace will make leadership a more palatable prospect for those in the organization that are reluctant to slip into power.

"After reading your book, I have the utmost confidence that you are the right person for the job. There's no one else that we have in mind for it. So what do you say? It will be a full time job, and I'll have to ask you to at least try to give up humans – practice what you preach, as they say - but it means a significant increase in salary, and if you meet with success, a much higher profile at B.I.T.E."

I couldn't care less about those last two points, but full-time, openly living and promoting the lifestyle _with_ B.I.T.E.'s blessing – hell yeah, I'm in!

I give Viktor a slightly more tempered response. "Viktor, this is …this is very unexpected. I appreciate your confidence in me and would be honored to take up the challenge."

A bright, genuine smile lights up Viktor's face. He pulls my shoulders into a hug and says, "Welcome aboard my dear, dear girl. We're going to have such fun reclaiming the empire together."

When he steps back, he pulls his face tight. He's about to deliver me some bad news. I should've known this was all too good to be true.

"There's one thing more I need to explain before I'm off to another meeting - always hopping these days. Your leg of our overall plan is one of the largest and most important. While I have all the confidence in the world in you, it wouldn't be prudent for me to set you loose without close supervision by a high-level executive, at least at first.

"I know you two haven't always gotten along, but I'm sure you'll understand that Gregorio seems to make the most sense to work with you on this project." My eyes lock on Gregorio's as Viktor continues. We keep our steady gaze emotionless but strong. "I understand that he worked in an editorial capacity on your book, and that he often kept tabs on your research in the field, so he's in an excellent position to hit the ground running. He's agreed to set aside his differences with you for the sake of the cause. I hope that you can find it in yourself to do the same, Beta."

I narrow my eyes at Gregorio and grit my teeth. I've spent so much time hiding my revulsion around this place, now I'm forced to disguise my delight. "I'll try Viktor, for you," I say, turning my unreadable gaze to my creator.

"Ah, Beta," he says, touching the back of his fingers to my face again. "I knew I could count on you." This time I don't recoil at his touch. I want to jump and wrap a huge hug around him for what he's just told me. I'm going to travel the world with Gregorio, doing exactly what I want to be doing. This is unreal. Out of this world, crazy unreal.

"Well, I'm off to the next piece of business. I'll leave you two here to start laying the ground work. We'll touch base again in a few days," Viktor says and leaves, shutting the door behind him. Gregorio and I are alone in the secluded, private conference room.

We look across the six feet that separate us. I am beaming at him. I cannot believe that he pulled this off. His red lips stretch in a smile across his face, and his black eyes light up. He likes watching my surprise. The complete surprise that he orchestrated. The surprise that he could have told me about earlier and spared me truckloads of anguish.

"You know, if I wasn't already technically dead, I'd probably have dropped of a heart attack with all the stress I've just been through," I teasingly berate him. "_Come_. _Come_? You couldn't have said something like – '_Don't worry_'; '_All's well_'; '_No one's going to chop you up and burn you today?_' Come!"

Gregorio chuckles. "_That_ was for your little trick with the passport," he says.

"Ugh," I groan and let my body relax as I look up at the ceiling. I should've known he'd get me back for that one day.

He laughs. I can't really work up any anger, because the news was too good. The strange thing is, I can't seem to work up a proper amount of jubilation either. I should be turning cartwheels around the room right now. I should be all over Gregorio, thanking him for what he's worked out. But I'm not. I'm staying in place, perfectly still, smiling mildly at Gregorio. I don't have any inclination to move toward him. I'm staying where I am, keeping the six foot buffer between us. Maybe it's because I still don't quite believe it. It hasn't sunk in yet. Or maybe it's because the residual anxiety of not knowing what to expect still lingers.

Gregorio steps over and puts his arms around my waist. "Welcome home, darling," he growls and bends down to kiss me. It's a perfectly acceptable thing for him to do, but I reflexively push back on his chest, keeping my lips out of his reach. He cocks an inquisitive eyebrow at me.

I suddenly realize what's bothering me. "You've really got it all, don't you, Gregorio?" I state. It sounds like an accusation the way I say it.

"It doesn't appear as if I have _you_ at the moment," he says carefully.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Oh, you have me. You have me for as long as you want me," I say. My last comment is stated as a challenge.

"Elisabeta," he says, dropping his hands from my waist and stepping back. "What is this about?"

"It's about you, Gregorio, and the way you so masterfully manage your life. Always making sure that you never have to choose between me and your precious career at B.I.T.E."

He flashes a confident smile and says, "Brilliant, aren't I?"

"Brilliant," I respond in a tone that is clearly unimpressed.

"Would you prefer that I'd worked out some other arrangement? Such as recommending that B.I.T.E. join forces with the Volturi and wage war on all vegans?" he asks facetiously.

"Of course not," I admit. "But what if you did have to choose between supporting B.I.T.E. or supporting me?"

"But I don't have to choose," he says, looking genuinely baffled as to what I'm trying to get at.

I huff in frustration. I don't know how to explain my pointless hang up to him.

He studies my disturbed face and comprehension seems to creep into his features. "You can't possibly be questioning which I would choose," he says incredulously.

The wide, worried eyes that I watch him through tell him that that is precisely what I'm questioning.

"Elisa," he says fervently. It's the first time he's ever called me that. That's what Father Pawel has called me all these years. I like the way it sounds in the rumble of Gregorio's voice. He steps up to me and holds my face close to his with both of his hands.

"Don't you know that I will always choose you…" he tells me quietly as he softly kisses the bridge of my nose. "…and you…" he continues, lightly pressing his lips to my forehead. My eyes close. His voice and his delicate touch cascade through me like velvet. "…and you…" he says tenderly kissing a closed eyelid. "…and you," he concludes, laying his lips on the other.

He keeps his hands on my jaw and rests his forehead on mine. His fingers delicately trace up and down my cheek. I'm surrounded by his touch and his alluring, musky scent.

"Now, can you please stop this silliness and kiss me?" he asks.

I am trying desperately to turn off my brain. My eyes stay closed, and my face pinches with the struggle. I bite my lip. I will myself to stop thinking and kiss this beautiful, wonderful man who loves me. Kiss him and let all thought drift away. Throw away these senseless worries. Why can't I do that? Why? Because my idiot brain knows that all of Gregorio's marvelous, welcome words will mean nothing if it ever comes down to it. It's easy for him to say this now. It's not reality. No one is forcing him to actually make a choice.

"You're killing me," he groans as he waits for my answer.

My eyes fly open. I know what to do. I reach up and pull one of his hands from my face and hold on to it. I step back and say with weighted words, "I'll kiss you Gregorio. But not here."

I lead him out of the room and through the maze of hallways to the executive wing. I sniff the air for Viktor's piney scent and stop in front of a glass-walled conference room. These blinds aren't shut. We can see everyone in there, and everyone in there can see us. Viktor's in there.

"Here," I say.

"Here?" Gregorio asks as a corner of his mouth turns up. He doesn't think I'm serious.

"Here," I repeat firmly. I raise my eyebrow, daring him to do it.

Gregorio presses his lips together with a touch of consternation as he realizes that I've never been more serious. He inhales deeply, and then exhales just as dramatically. Without a word, he slips his hand out of mine and threads it through my hair, gripping the back of my head. He grasps my waist with his other hand and dips me all the way back. His movement is so swift and abrupt that I instinctively kick my knee up to his side for support and grip his shoulder blades with my hands.

He gives me a dirty smile and then plants his mouth on mine in a movie-style kiss. One taste, and I'm instantly lost in Gregorio. My eyes roll back, and I close them, pulling myself tighter to him. I don't care whether we're in an institutional hallway in Romania, on a snowdrift in Greenland, or at a beach in Madagascar. I'm with Gregorio. I'm exactly where I belong.

He straightens up, and I follow, bringing both legs around his waist so that he's holding me up. Our faces stay plastered together during the whole transition. My mouth is stretched as wide as it can go, yet I pull my fingers coarsely through his thick waves, trying to bring him impossibly closer. How does he manage to be this delicious every single time?

"Ahem," we hear from the conference room doorway.

We reluctantly break lip lock and turn blearily toward the noise, keeping the sides of our faces pressed tightly against each other. The noise was Viktor. Oh yeah, Viktor. Sort of forgot about him. I feel Gregorio's grip tighten protectively around me.

"You've both been provided with private rooms for this type of thing," Viktor says curtly.

Is that it?

I turn disbelievingly toward Gregorio. His eyes are just as wide as mine. "Your rooms or mine?" I ask breathlessly and smile.

"Uh, yours," Gregorio answers uncertainly. I don't think he believes that we're actually going to get off this easily.

We turn toward Viktor again. Gregorio is still holding me up with my legs wrapped around him. We must look ridiculous to everyone in the conference room. Viktor starts to retreat back into the room, but pauses and turns back to us.

"I'm glad to see you're warming up to your new boss, Beta," he says. "You'll go far with an attitude like that," he adds with a wink and then returns to his meeting.

Gregorio and I turn to each other and exchange a look that most definitely says, '_Let's get the hell out of here before he changes his mind._' Gregorio carries me all the way to my rooms. On our way, he keeps his lips touched to mine. Through them, he mumbles, "You, _my_ dear girl, are a lot of work."

"Worth it?" I ask hopefully, keeping our light lip contact.

He responds with a low, sultry chuckle that I know means '_yes_.'

We reach my rooms, and I slam the door behind us. We fall onto my bed and celebrate our good fortune. I suppose we could have gotten to this a lot sooner if I hadn't been being such a pain in the ass, but now I have no reservations. I realize that Viktor only thinks Gregorio and I are having a meaningless fling, and he might very well have an entirely different reaction when he finds out how committed we are to each other, but Gregorio hadn't known how the kiss would work out, and he did it anyway. He did it big, and he did it bold. He chose me.

.

.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: This may read like the end of the story, but let me assure you - tisn't. I simply can't bear to leave off with quite so happy an ending, so there will be one more chapter. Plus, we still don't know how Gregorio got that damned scar, do we? Any theories? You'll never, never guess, but it does relate to something that happened earlier in the story……you'll never guess.


	20. Goodbye

Chapter 20

Goodbye

Gregorio is going to be busy transitioning off some of his other duties over the next several days. I am supposed to be working on an outline of the long-range plan for the conversion of vampires to veganism and touching base with my vegan research subjects to assess their willingness to help out on the project. Since, unbeknownst to Viktor, that is already done and done, I've got some free time. I'm going to go see Father Pawel. It's been too long.

My little priest is still my secret. I will tell Gregorio about him some day, but not yet. I think perhaps one day soon I may even bring him with me to Poland, so the two can meet. The two loves of my life. What a day that will be. But this time, it will just be me and Pawel.

I know it seems absurd that I would leave Gregorio so soon after being reunited with him, but I now have more reason than ever to go to my faithful friend in Poland. Pawel needs to know that the tiny seeds he planted in me so long ago are about to flourish. We are finally going to make visible progress in bringing vampires toward a more peaceful existence. In his old age, Pawel will probably only have a very vague idea of what I am talking about, but he will understand my joy. And he will understand that he is the architect of that joy. I will make sure that he understands that.

I go to Father Pawel, and he isn't there. They tell me that he asked for me in his final days, but nobody knew how to find me.

I'm directed to a simple gravestone in a sparse graveyard on a desolate hill. He is here. What remains of my little Father Pawel is here. He asked for me in his final days, but I missed them. I missed my last chance to hold his warm hand, to hear his wise voice, to kiss his soft forehead. He's gone. He's buried here. I missed him. I miss him. It hurts. Oh, God, it hurts.

I sink to my knees in front of the cold, dead stone. Underneath me lies Pawel. The only person who ever loved me without question, without condition. The only person that never, never disappointed me, even though I must have disappointed him a thousand times. Disappointed him even in his last days, when he asked for me, and I wasn't there.

I rip the grass with my fingers. I dig pits into the dirt. I want to feel him. I want to feel him. It hurts. I hurt. I miss him.

I know he's in a better place. I know he's twirling sparkling angels under his arm in heaven. He's where he belongs, where he deserves to be. He was always too good for this earth. He was always a gift. A gift that I loved, that I needed. He was everything to me. I sink lower and press my face into the grass. Father Pawel is under here. I want to feel him. I know he's in a better place, but I'm selfish and horrible, and I want to bring him back. I want him, need him. My chest is open and leaking, soaking into the earth, trying to get to him.

The man is dead, and I'm still asking him for more. My face is pressed into the grass. This is exactly where I belong. Exactly where I'd have been for the last fifty years if Father Pawel hadn't rescued me. I deserve this pain that is ripping through me. I should feel it searing, tearing, pulsing through me every second of every day for the rest of eternity. He asked for me, and I wasn't there. He's gone, and I'm nothing. I'm nothing. He was everything, and now I am nothing. I am spiraling downward. I can't stop. I need Pawel to pull me up, but he's gone. I had everything, and now I have nothing. It hurts. It hurts. Oh, God, it hurts.

I am suddenly wrenched off the ground and turned and embraced. I fight to sink back down to the earth, where I belong. I want to feel Pawel. I want to feel Pawel. But the embrace holds me tight with my arms trapped at my sides, and I can't budge. I don't need to look to know that the unrelenting arms that hold me are Gregorio's. He has found me. Somehow, he has found me.

I stop my struggle to be free and begin a new one. I struggle to accept what I have lost. I sob. It's a long, torturous moan that emanates over the graveyard and sounds like something from hell. Like the grinding and gnashing of mournful souls in hell. I sob, and I sob, and I begin to shake, and his arms hold me tight. He doesn't say a word. He holds me, and I sob.

I would slip back to the ground without his support and never get up. I need him to hold me up. I shake. It hurts, and I sob, and I shake, and he holds me, and he doesn't say a word, and I need him. I love that I need him to hold me up.

I shake, and he doesn't say a word.

And I love that I need him.

*****

My sobbing eventually subsides. I am still as I lean on Gregorio and press my face into him. He slackens his grip around my arms and moves his hands to gently rub my back. I feel his lips press into my hair, and he whispers, "I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry."

I reach my arms around his ribs and pull myself tightly to him. I turn my face to the side with my cheek crammed into his shoulder and ask, "How did you know?"

"Carlisle called right after you left. Alice saw what was going to happen."

I nod slightly. Then Gregorio confesses to me that he's known about this place, known that this was where I disappeared to. In the early days, he was curious about where I was going. He'd sometimes trail behind me at the edge of my scent, never getting too close lest I pick up on his. After several tries, he figured out that I was staying somewhere in Poland. Many years later, he came close to finding the exact location of my visits, but my scent grew weaker around that area and eventually faded all together. Father Pawel had moved to the monastery. Gregorio eventually found the monastery, and bribed one of the monks there to tell him everything he knew about me and why I came.

After that, Gregorio stopped following me here and left me to my privacy, but when Alice got on the phone and gave him the details of what she'd seen, he knew what had happened and where I was. He dropped what he was doing and came for me, not even taking the time to rent a car. He ran the whole way.

It's starting to get dark, and we really should be going. There've been reports of a werewolf in this quadrant of Poland, and a full moon is brewing. But I'm not ready to depart the Polish countryside just yet. When I leave, it will be the final chapter of my story with Pawel, and I'm not ready to say goodbye. Gregorio agrees to stay the night, but insists that we shelter somewhere inside. I know the monks would welcome us into the monastery, but I don't want to go there. They won't let us spend the night in the same room, and I'm not willing to step away from Gregorio right now. We wander the hills in the darkening night and see a barn in the distance.

We creep up to the barn and carefully swing the door open. Gregorio peeks his head inside and then guides me in with his hand at my waist. The only animals in the barn are two large, grey horses. Any vermin have wisely skittered away as soon as they sensed us. The horses start to whinny uneasily, but Gregorio pacifies them by making guttural sounds from his throat and clicking noises with his tongue. I am totally impressed. He takes my hand and leads me up to a hay-filled loft. We'll stay out of sight up here in case the horses' racket alerted the farmer.

The loft is nearly to the ceiling, causing us to crouch, so Gregorio sits down with his back against a stack of hay. I slide down in front of him and snuggle into his chest. I ask him what he knows about Father Pawel from his detective work. He says not much. Once he ascertained that my relationship with him was nothing more than a quirky friendship, he didn't feel the need to learn more.

"I'm sorry that I didn't confide in you about Father Pawel," I tell him.

"I know in time, you would have told me," he says.

"Yes, I would have," I confirm. "Unfortunately, we ran out of time, didn't we?" I add sadly.

"You can tell me about him now," Gregorio offers.

I tell Gregorio all about my friend, about how he saved me, how he became a part of who I am, how he started me on my quest. And I tell him about all the things that I adored in that little man.

"I would have liked to have known him," Gregorio says with a soft kiss to the top of my head. I'm reclining with my back on Gregorio's chest and have taken up one of his hands in both of mine. I move my fingertips up and down the long, elegant line of his fingers.

"I told him all about you," I tell him.

"Did you?" he asks, sounding surprised.

"Uh huh. Right after Alaska. He was very happy that we'd found each other." After a brief pause, I add with a small, nervous laugh, "He thought we should get married."

"Did he?" Gregorio says with interest. Now his fingers start lightly tracing up and down mine. "Well then, perhaps we should. For Father Pawel."

"For Pawel?" I question, twisting my neck so I can look up at Gregorio.

"For Pawel," he answers as his index finger starts to trace a circle at the base of my ring finger where a wedding band would go. "For me…for you…for us," he finishes.

"For us," I repeat softly. I like the way it sounds. I push off of Gregorio and hold myself up with a hand pressed to his chest. My other hand is now palm to palm with his. "Gregorio, do you really want to be my husband?" I ask. I'd rather expected him to be reluctant to marry again after the disturbing incident with his human wife and child.

"Of course I do," he says decisively, clasping his fingers around my hand. "The question is – do _you_ want to be my wife?" he asks.

I keep him in suspense for all of two seconds before I fold my fingers down over his and answer, "Yes."

We stare softly into each others' eyes with delicate smiles on our lips. It's not the first time I've thought about marrying Gregorio. I am a woman, after all. Whenever I'd let myself daydream about it, I always pictured a private wedding on a sunny hill in Poland, our faces shimmering and my fuzzy-haired Pawel presiding in his white vestments. I didn't realize how much I'd hoped for this vision to become a reality until just now, now that it's an impossibility. If Gregorio and I do get married, it will be by a stranger. A stranger who won't be anything close to my Pawel…my Father…my savior…my friend.

The tears that I can't release well up in me again. I squeak out a few words of explanation to Gregorio before my face crumples, and I fall onto him and cry. His hands are on my back and in my hair, holding me, stroking me, helping me mourn what I have lost. My Pawel, my Pawel, my Pawel. I'll never see him again. He'll never meet my Gregorio. My life on earth will stretch into eternity without him. I cry for a long, long time. I can't imagine ever feeling anything but sadness again. My Pawel, my Pawel, my Pawel.

When I take a break from crying, Gregorio and I stay reclined against the straw. We talk all night. I tell him some more about Pawel and then start asking him about his history, things I don't know. He tells me about his days with the Volturi and how he first met Viktor. They were introduced when Gregorio was still with the Volturi and he worked with Viktor to stage the attempted coup by the New Romanians. I was just a young, human girl in a small village back then. Together, they carefully orchestrated the "battle" to ensure that both sides ended up with what they wanted. I'd had no idea about all those behind the scenes shenanigans.

I tell him that the only thing I remember about my human life was the day I went to the village well for water and saw a mysterious man with salt and pepper hair standing near the well, observing me. Somehow I knew that he was going to change my life. I must have been eager for a change, because I don't remember feeling frightened or reluctant when he openly leered at me with his strange eyes. And I don't remember putting up a fight when he lured me away from town to bite me.

I tell Gregorio how Viktor later told me that he'd been discreetly following me around my village for weeks. I'd caught his eye because I was always getting into trouble. He said he was intrigued by my spirit and my creativity and knew I'd be an asset to B.I.T.E. I tell Gregorio why I left B.I.T.E. and what my life was like after that. He's surprised to learn about me and Carlisle. He teases me and tells me that he'll be accompanying me on all future visits to America. I tell him, 'good.'

I want to know how Gregorio's vegan diet is going, but I can't figure out how to bring it up without sounding like I'm putting pressure on him. I think he must have had a few humans, because he's not as ravenous as he should be at this point on an animal-only diet. I'm not going to ask. If he wants to talk about it, he will. I won't push him.

Sometimes while we're talking, Father Pawel rushes to the front of my mind, and I cry again. Gregorio lets me. He lets me work through it. At one point, when Gregorio is telling me a story that happened a hundred years before I'd ever even lived as a human, I get scared. I'm struck with the notion that he and I were never supposed to meet. He's supposed to have lived and died hundreds of years before I ever walked the earth. We're defying fate by being here with each other. It scares me. It scares me to think that he could ever be taken away from me. I can't lose them both. I can't lose Pawel _and_ Gregorio.

I fiercely clench my arms around him and begin go shake violently. It's the only time Gregorio tries to quash my emotion. He pulls me to him in a vice grip to still my trembling. He murmurs in my ear, "Shhh…stop, stop…I'm here…we're supposed to be together or we wouldn't be…I'm here…I'm here." I make it through the night because of him. Only because of him.

In the morning, we see that God has given us a cloudy day, so we stop by the monastery. I want to say 'goodbye' and 'thank you' to the monks for all of their hospitality over the years. One of the monks starts when he sees Gregorio and me together. He must be the one Gregorio bribed. I'm glad we stop by, because the senior monk hands me a small box of things Father Pawel wanted me to have. He didn't have much, but whatever is in this box is a bigger treasure than I ever hoped to have in my possession.

Gregorio and I take the box to a nearby hill. We sit in the grass and open it. The first thing I pull out is a rosary. I smile a little when I explain to Gregorio how I thought Father Pawel was going to burn me with it. There're also some trinkets from Pawel's limited travels. I wish I could have taken him to some of the places I've seen. At the bottom of the box is his well-worn, leather bound Bible. My throat constricts as I reach in and pull it to me, closing my eyes and holding it to my chest for several minutes.

I set the book down in my lap and immediately turn to my psalm and read the Latin words out loud. My voice breaks a few times along the way. Afterwards, I sit and stare at the words in my lap for a long time. These words have meant so much to me, altered the direction of my life, hopefully the direction of many, many lives to come. Seeing the very words that first spoke to me so many years ago is overwhelming. Gregorio stays silent while I stare.

When I shut the book, I notice Father Pawel's scrawl on the inside cover. I translate the Polish. It says:

'_For Elisa, my little light in this world,_

_Know that He is with you always._

_With sincerest love, Father Pawel'_

I touch my fingertips to Father Pawel's handwriting. It is the smooth, flowing hand of earlier years. He must have decided to give this to me a long time ago.

Gregorio and I get up and gather wild flowers on the hill and make a bouquet, which we bring to Father's grave. As I'm setting the flowers down in the dirt at the base of the headstone, I read the inscription. I'd been too overcome with grief the day before to pay it any attention. It says:

'_For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it. Matthew 16:25'_

Pawel is where he wants to be. Where he deserves to be. I feel good.

Gregorio has left a lot of work behind in Romania. I'm sure he must be anxious to get back to it, so I'm surprised when he suggests that we take our time getting home. We're going to make our way back on foot, and he doesn't even want to run, like he did all the way here. We walk over the hills, holding hands, taking our time. I ask him why he's not more concerned about getting back. He tells me that he thinks a little more time before returning to that world would be good for me. I give him a skeptical look.

He says, "My career at B.I.T.E. could all dissolve into nothing tomorrow, but you, my love, are going to be my wife. That's permanent; therefore, you pull rank."

I smile. The security of Gregorio makes me feel playful. It's nice to feel playful again. "So, you're actually planning on proposing then?" I say.

His hand flinches in mine. "Didn't I propose last night?" he asks.

"Oh no, no, no," I say lightly. "_That_ was not a proposal. _That_ was simply an exploratory discussion. You, my dear Gregorio, are not the type of man to propose in a barn," I tell him as I swing his hand casually.

"Really," he says. "Tell me, what kind of man am I?"

"Oh, you're the kind to do it up big. Whatever you plan will be spectacular and completely unexpected. You might even write me that sonnet. I'm getting goose bumps just thinking about it," I gush facetiously.

"As long as there's no pressure," he says with a wry twist of his lips.

"Oh, don't worry," I say and squeeze his hand. I give him a sideways glance and add, "I have the utmost confidence in you." I hope he knows that I'm talking beyond the context of a silly proposal. He squeezes my hand back, and I see the opportunity to take up another piece of business with him. "It's probably best if we don't get officially engaged until after we know everything about each other, anyway," I throw in in a seemingly off-handed way.

"Everything?" he asks. "Didn't we fill in every possible gap last night?"

I step in front of him and turn around to face him. He stops walking. I wrap one arm around his waist and lift the other to trace a fingertip lightly up and down his mysterious scar.

"Oh," he says with a bit of dread.

"Please," I say encouragingly. "I want to know."

He groans and presses his forehead to mine. He clicks his teeth together and rubs his hands nervously at my waist. I don't think I've ever seen him this anxious before. "Gregorio?" I say as a question. I can't understand what the big deal is.

He says almost gravely, "I will tell you. But you must promise me…you must _promise_ me, Elisabeta, that your opinion of me will not change."

My bottom lip pushes my mouth into a frown. How could he be worried about that? Doesn't he know that nothing could shake my attachment to him? Then it occurs to me that while Gregorio has always been forthcoming about his feelings for me, I've given him precious little verbal verification of how I feel about him. I've been leaving far too much for him to infer from a look or a kiss.

I take both my hands and lay them aside his sharp cheekbones. I hold him so his eyes are pointed to mine. I look into the soft black. It goes deep, deep, like I could stare into it forever and never ever reach the bottom. Then I speak.

"You mean more to me than anyone besides Father Pawel ever has. I already had you up on the highest of pedestals, but after last night, after you showed me the depth of your love and your compassion, that pedestal is unshakeable, impenetrable, and nothing could ever knock you off of it." While I'm talking, my fingertips trace lightly over his features. By the time I get to this point, they are at his lips. He is staring raptly back at me, taking in every word. "You could tell me that you got this scar by kissing the devil himself, and I would have no doubt that you defeated those demons long ago and are a better man now."

My fingertips stay at his lips, moving slowly back and forth and around them as I speak. "You are the very best man left on this earth, and nothing, nothing, nothing can change my opinion of you. My love for you is infinite, and I will walk with you anywhere."

I've worked myself up with this little speech. Saying it all out loud makes it that much more real, and I'm gazing into Gregorio's deep eyes with renewed desire. Gregorio starts kissing my fingertips. Soon he's pressing his lips passionately to the palms of my hands and down my wrists. Before I'm even aware of how it happened, he's busy at my chest, kissing and nipping through the thin fabric that covers my breasts. I clutch him lustily to me, and he pulls me down into the long grasses. He slides his sure hands under my linen garments and does things to me that he's never done before. Things that make me arch my back and whimper and shudder with pleasure.

I am definitely going to start telling him how I feel more often.

We get up and straighten our clothes and start moving again toward home. I want to touch more than Gregorio's hand, so I climb onto his back and straddle my legs around his waist. He holds onto the back of my thighs, and I circle my arms over his shoulders. As he carries me through Poland, I kiss his neck and nuzzle his hair and tell him that I love him a hundred times. I hear a soft, contented purr vibrating at the back of his throat.

After a while, I rest my chin on his shoulder at the crook of his neck and inhale his scent. He's not saying anything. Nothing at all. He's hoping that his skilled fingers have made me forget all about my earlier question.

"Are you going to make me ask you again?" I say.

He exhales slowly and keeps moving across the land. After a brief pause, he says, "Very well. Here it is." His foreboding tone makes me think that maybe I don't want to know, after all. There must be some terrible reason for him to be so hesitant. Before I can change my mind, he plunges into his story.

"It was about eight or nine years before you rejoined B.I.T.E. I was with the organization and living in Romania by then. My designated hunting territory was Eastern Hungary. I'd taken my prey into the forest there. While I was feeding, a small creature leapt onto the corpse from out of nowhere. I was startled and pulled back from the feed, and saw that it was a rabbit. I swear to you, the creature had latched onto the main artery in the wrist of my kill and seemed to be trying to feed on it. I ripped the rabbit away, but before I could toss it into the trees, it lunged at me and sunk its front teeth into my lip. I tore it out, but not before it had done permanent damage."

He pauses. His eyes are fixed intently on a distant point as he recalls the details of his story.

I am holding very still. I'm afraid any movement might set me off, so I hold still. But I have to ask, to make sure that I understand correctly, "Gregorio, are you saying that you got that scar from a bunny rabbit?"

"Yes," he sighs somberly and continues to stare at that distant point.

I press my lips tightly together and bite them hard to hold back my smile. Every muscle in my body tightens to hide my reaction to the utter hilarity of my brilliant, strong, stalwart Gregorio being bested by a bunny.

"Yes, well," he continues in his grave voice, "it was stunned by its collision with a nearby tree, and I took that opportunity to exit the scene and abandoned my prey."

This is too much. "You…you _ran away_ from it?" I squeak. My giggles are way too close to the surface. Gregorio must sense them, because he turns his head abruptly toward me, causing me to lift my chin quickly from his shoulder.

His eyes narrow as he says defensively, "It was about to launch itself at me again at any second."

That's it. I've lost my battle for self control. I openly guffaw right into Gregorio's ear, which is only about two inches away from my mouth. I slap his shoulder repeatedly and plead, "Let me down…let me down," as soon as I'm able to speak.

He lets me down, and I bend double in laughter with the tip of my nose nearly touching the top of the tallest grasses as I picture a rabid puff of fur chasing a terrorized Gregorio through the forest. I know laughing at him isn't very nice, especially since he's sensitive about telling me, but it's just so fricking funny!

After several minutes, I regain a semblance of control and straighten up. Gregorio is staring me down with his head tilted and his jaw set, like he can't believe I'd betray him like this. I didn't think it was possible for me to love him more than I already did, but I do, as he looks down at me with such raw vulnerability.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry," I say with genuine remorse. I walk over to him and rest my forearms on his shoulders and twist my fingers in this hair. In those soft, black eyes, I see a flash of residual terror from his harrowing encounter with the woodland creature and more than a touch of embarrassment. It's an expression that I doubt many other people have ever seen on him.

"Gregorio," I ask, suddenly curious. "Who else knows about this?"

His typical air of superiority seeps in, covering his vulnerability. He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and says in a scolding manner, "No one else has had the impertinence to ask."

I feel a bit of chagrin, but not much. It's a sweet sensation to know something about Gregorio that nobody else in the world knows. "Poor baby," I say tenderly and press my lips lightly on his scar. While I'm there, I remember something, and I pull back.

"Gregorio, did you say Hungary?" I ask.

"Yes, near Repashuta."

My mind clicks. Yes. I think that's about where it was. "Do you remember what I told you about the first time I tried to leave Father Pawel? How I tried to feed on one of the forest animals, but it freaked me out?"

He nods, and looks at me quizzically.

"It was a rabbit, Gregorio. And I bit it, but I threw it down, and it hopped away. I may have infected his blood. You don't think……could I have created a vampire rabbit?" As I ask, I am filled with a wonder that is completely alien to me

Instead of scoffing, as I half expected, Gregorio looks thoughtful and says, "I suppose it's quite possible. I've often wondered how the rabbit had been able to break my skin. And I'd always been taught that vampire venom is the only thing that can leave a scar, besides werewolves, of course," he says, rubbing his hand absently down my side where a thin, silvery line still runs. He looks back at me with the same wonder in his eyes that I feel.

A new thought pops into my head. "Gregorio, that rabbit is sort of like our child, isn't it? I bit it…it bit you…we have a child!" I shout with delight.

Now he scoffs. "Child is hardly the word I'd use to describe that …that _thing_. Vicious monster would be more like it," he grumbles, but I don't listen. I'm occupied with my own thoughts.

I've never been the kind of person that ever yearned to have children, quite the opposite; I've always considered myself fortunate that it was not a possibility. But for some reason, I'm tickled by the idea of the bunny as a pseudo-child. It's something tangible that connects me to Gregorio. I want to find that damned rabbit.

"Gregorio, if it's truly a vampire, it's still out there…"

Gregorio watches the new determination settle on my face. "We are _not_ going on any rabbit hunting expeditions," he warns sternly.

"Probably a good idea to wait," I acquiesce. "It'd be rather awkward to have to explain to junior that mommy and daddy aren't married. But maybe after the honeymoon…"

"No," he says firmly as I climb back onto him, and we resume our trek home.

I try persuading him from a different angle. "Oh, come on. If I'm going to be working more closely with the Cullens, I'm going to have to up my freak-factor somehow. Undead rabbit trumps pin-headed half human any day."

Gregorio only sighs and gives up trying to reason with me at the moment. As I wrap my arms adoringly around his neck and press the side of my face into his soft waves, I am filled with a sense of peace and good will. Perhaps I should stop giving the Cullens such a hard time, go easy on them from now on.

But let's be real – that ain't gonna happen. They are _way_ too much fun.

The End

**NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: **Thanks to everyone who had read this story through to the end, especially those of you who put it on your alert and/or favorites list. Special thanks to **Samji** who's been with me from the beginning. And a big '_Ya Hey Der!_' to strapping, young author, **Master of the Boot**, who will feature Elie in a chapter of his fanfiction titled, The Big Hellsig – The Forks Affair. Check it out, if you dare.

I have some exciting news! I've been published. :) My original novel "Three Daves" is now available at .com, and my short story _I Don't Do Valentine's Day _is part of a collection of romantic short stories in "A Valentine's Anthology," also at Omnific. Please stop by my Web site, .com, to check them out.


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